A Few Days Continued, Time in the Triangle 20
by sarapals with past50
Summary: Sara and Gil Grissom, and family, make a temporary move when Sara accepts a visiting research position. Continues 'A Few Days' series. Appearances by Las Vegas friends, fluff, fun, a little mystery for Grissom. Some sweet smut, so rating it M.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: We own nothing! Just having fun with characters from CSI and creating our own little fanfiction for continued GSR! Thanks for reading! _

**A Few Days Continued, Time in the Triangle: Chapter 1**

The letter was curled from the touch of nervous fingers and frequent handling even though it had arrived only three days ago. Gil Grissom could not resist forming a smile as he read what he already knew—what had been discussed and talked about at least once every waking hour since the letter arrived. It was addressed to someone else, his wife, and his smile was one formed of love, pride, and possession.

He could hear the noise outside the open windows and knew the sounds meant happiness as Sara played with her children—their children. Every day, she walked with the two oldest as they waited for the school bus. In the afternoon, she was the one who usually walked to the end of the driveway to await their return. Something about the way she watched for them added to her contentment in life.

Every afternoon, from bus to play gym or the porch, his wife spent an hour playing. He had figured out this time was as much for her as it was for their children. He stood and watched as his dark haired daughter jumped from platform to rope, wrapping skinny legs around knots before landing in dust. Eli, their oldest, Warrick's son, shouted something before sliding down a bright yellow tube. Little Will, their baby, was safely placed in a blue swing that gently moved with an occasional push from his mother. The high-pitched squeals came from the twins, Annie and Ava, as they chased each other underneath the raised platform. Their blonde hair reflecting sunlight as their pink and yellow clothes reminded him of butterflies.

In the few minutes it took him to think about each child, his grin had grown across his face and taken years from his actual age—a change he never realized.

With a quick, last look, he turned and headed into the kitchen. His afternoon contribution waited on the counter. Their housekeeper had baked a favorite — almond shortcakes—and he added lemonade and cups to the tray before joining his little tribe.

He settled on the top step of the porch, waved, gave the dog a treat, and began to pour lemonade into cups. He grinned and shook his head as he surveyed the porch. It was a tumbled mess—no other words described it better. There was a clear path between front door and steps, but between a traditional porch swing at one end and a swinging bed on the other, there was a jumble of ride-on toys, blocks, a variety of shoes, an umbrella, and the dog.

Four children rapidly appeared, ignoring their snack for a few minutes as they swarmed over him; even the two who had been with him all day added hugs and kisses before taking a cup and a piece of cake. Sara arrived last, carrying a squirming baby who wanted to walk.

Another hour passed before parents settled on the swing to watch as five children sorted out toys and played. Bizzy, their oldest girl, attempted to read to Annie, and Eli and Ava played some made-up game that included crawling after their young brother.

"Have you made a decision?"

"Gil, I—I would love to do this, but I can't. Six months—taking everyone away from home…" Her voice trailed to quiet. Sara looked at him with wide eyes. "What? You think we can?" She laughed, a little sarcastic chuckle. "We go shopping and it's a major ordeal."

He reached for her, pulling her against his chest. "Sara, I am beyond proud of you. Five, six years and look at what you have accomplished. I mean professionally, not just with our kids—a book, two published papers, just this year—four times you've spoken at conferences. This is a gift for your mind. Take it—we'll go—we can work things out."

Will had tired of the chase game and ran in baby steps to his mother. Sara picked him up and he snuggled against her neck.

"Five, Gil, five kids."

He chuckled. "Bath time!" He announced, "Who's first?"

The four older children scrambled around him as he held the door open. Bathing five children in one bathroom, even when Eli opted for a shower, took an hour, but got everyone clean for dinner. And shortly after their meal, he and Sara would have much needed quiet time as their children slept.

At some point between the second and third bath—Eli's shower had turned into two rinses when Grissom noticed soap running down his back, and the twins disagreed over who was wearing a certain nightgown—a renewed idea formed in his brain. They needed another bathroom. Sara would like a big tub, lots of hot water; he wanted another shower—one with room, and a bigger kitchen. He sat on the toilet seat as Annie and Ava doused each other with water, giggling. His idea formed into a vision. The girls needed their own bathroom; this one would work for Eli and Will.

Bizzy interrupted his planning process with a hairbrush. He smoothed her curls and pulled her dark hair into a ponytail. Except for her blue eyes, this was a miniature Sara. As she talked, telling him details of her school day—she was excited about learning—he knew this was, or should have been, the childhood of her mother. Even the child's smile spread across her face in a replica of the one he had loved for so long.

She helped her sisters; their stout arms and legs and blonde hair in opposite contrast to Bizzy's long, slim ones. Giggling little girls wrapped in towels crowded the bathroom. Yes, he thought, the time had arrived for more space.

Later, with full stomachs, a favorite story read to the girls, Eli reading his own book, school bags unpacked and repacked for the two oldest, the house gradually quieted leaving the adults to clean the kitchen and have their own quiet time.

"I'm going to turn it down," Sara said as she stacked the last plate in its rack.

"You should take it."

Sara turned, leaning against the counter. "I—I don't see how we can," she stopped talking before her voice betrayed the turmoil in her brain. Her hands knotted a dish towel.

Grissom took the towel, wrapping arms around her, kissing her lightly until lips met. He felt her smile.

"You know, we need a bigger kitchen," he said. "Definitely another bathroom—one for the girls, one for us."

Sara pulled away watching him with surprise.

"And the playroom could use some work. When we eat—we already touch elbows. You should have your own office—or we could…"

She pushed him away, her palm resting on his chest. "What are you talking about?" She asked, puzzled.

"Leaving the house for six months," He took her by the hand and guided her to their shared office, which had been a dining room once. "You take the research position. We turn the house over to the Garcia brothers with plans for a new kitchen, a couple of bathrooms, expand the playroom. When we return, everything's finished."

Sara's look—open mouth astonishment—caused him to laugh. He pulled her into the chair with him. "We've talked about doing something—making the house more livable."

"Six months—I'm not sure," but a flicker of possibilities sparked. "We would need to pack up everything."

"Movers."

"Decide what to take with us."

"Give everyone a few boxes—ship them ahead of us."

Sara rolled her eyes. "How do we get five kids and a dog across the country? Who takes care of your bees?"

"Road trip!" He was smiling. "It will be fine. We can take our time—sightsee. Go see a dinosaur park in Colorado—Eli would love that. The bees—I can get another beekeeper to come out. You know our neighbors--the nuns will guard this place with Bible and prayer! It will be fun—a change for everyone."

Sara knew nothing could be as easy as his words indicated. The last trip to Vegas had been a near disaster with two children vomiting for half the trip for no obvious reasons. Grissom's comment in the middle of cleaning up the van was "We know which three got my cast iron stomach."

She sighed. "I'm not sure."

"What else? They are offering a generous stipend, providing housing. The university has a school where Eli and Bizzy can go—right on campus. This is ground breaking work—you've said so!" His fingers combed her hair. "You deserve this, honey."

Sara had leaned against his shoulder. "I don't want the kids unhappy."

"They will be fine as long as we are together. They love to travel. It will be an adventure!"

"Housing may be some two bedroom student apartment."

He picked up the letter. "It says 'a house on campus'." He continued reading. "The Spicer House, located on campus, is available for you and your family. It is a former home management house and is now used for visiting faculty." He reached for his keyboard. "Let's find this house." He clicked several times, bringing up a very green aerial view of a university campus.

"It's a beautiful campus," Sara said.

Grissom clicked again for street view. "It was spring—see the flowers." He followed several streets. "There is no street address and this is a big campus."

Sara moved to her desk and in a few minutes had an address. She read aloud, "The Spicer house served as a home management practice house from 1938 until 1970. Female students lived and learned how to manage a home by living part of the semester in the house. For several years, infants and children lived in the home so students could practice parenting skills." She looked up at him. "I've never heard of this. Here's the address—corner of Azalea Drive and Trinity Street."

He clicked through several screens. "Found it." He leaned back. "Call tomorrow." He turned the screen toward Sara.

"Oh," she whispered. The screen showed a large red brick house, a small porch on the front, a larger side porch on one end and a glass enclosed space on the other end of the house. "Is that a covered pool?"

"I think it's a greenhouse—a solarium."

"Do you think we would live in the entire house?" She counted twelve windows across the front of the two-storied house.

"You can ask when you call tomorrow," Grissom said. "Where's that file you keep of house ideas?" He grinned as she puckered her lips before smiling. "I know you have one."

"Do you really think we can pull this off, Gil?" She had moved back to his chair studying the photograph captured on screen. "There's a fence for the backyard."

He kissed the back of her neck. "Sara, you are the smartest person I've ever been around—I've known that for years. You have managed this house, had four babies, written a book on a difficult subject, become well-known in the circle of experts in the field. And this university doing premiere research asks you to come in as a visiting researcher. You can do this—you need to do this! We can take care of everything else."

She felt the chuckle begin deep in his chest. "I'll be the house-dad, get the kids to school, fix lunch and dinner while you work, do laundry." She laughed, knowing he meant what he said, but also knowing his household skills left out fifty percent of what needed to be done.

"And our house—do you think—I trust the Garcia brothers—but to leave for six months."

"I'll fly back a few times." He wrapped arms around her waist. "We can do this."

Much later, in the quiet, dark house, Grissom's hand reached to find Sara. He knew she had not slept; he had gone to bed leaving her writing a list.

"You asleep?" He asked, knowing the answer.

"No." She rolled toward him. "I didn't want to wake you."

His arms encircled her. "Sara—we can work this out." He kissed her hair as she snuggled against him. "We'll divide and conquer! The kids will think it's a six month vacation." His hands played along her spine as familiar, desired warmth spread from his lips, into his heart, down his belly and centered in his groin. All their years of being together, sleeping in the same bed, and he responded like a teenager to having her body next to his.

His voice softened, became a husky whisper, as he said, "We'll work things out."

Sara's hands found his face; her fingers lifted a silver curl. "I love you, Gil." Her lips touched his nose, his chin, before meeting his. She relaxed, inch by inch, as he returned her kisses. She loved this man who had given her life—calm, steady, unwavering, and passionate.

His hands moved along her spine finding the rise at its end, his fingers sliding along the cleft of her butt as she moved closed to him. "Are you okay?" He asked.

As an answer, she smiled, a muted giggle reached his ears before she kissed him again, moving her body in an undulating wave, rising and falling gently against his body. "Of course," she whispered. Two decades of loving this man had not diminished her obsession or her delight in knowing that he wanted her— physically, emotionally, mentally — he was her possession, just as she knew she was his.

His thumb hooked the waistband of her panties as his fingers slipped the fabric off her hips. His other hand was busy with her top, pushing it up, taking a second to pull it over her head. Quickly, her panties were off, her body shivered as he pulled her to him.

Sara's hands had been working on his clothes—not yet removed, but loosened, pushed aside, opened. The feel of his hard sex against her belly caused her to gasp. She always did, even when she tried to prevent the quick intake of air, the catch in her breath was so involuntary, so sudden, that it surprised her even as she tried to control it. She smiled, knowing this was the passion that maintained physical love.

Grissom's hand moved against her intimate feminine core; he smiled as their lips met. Stress, tension always caused a need—and for years, Sara's need had been for him, to make love to him in a hurried method she called 'a quickie' and tonight, she was stressed. Her hand stroked, her fingers caressed, she moved above him, lips never leaving his as her knees straddled his hips. She moved again, enough to ease his erection against the soft, warm moisture created inside her. She pulled away as he felt blood pounding against the most sensitive area of his body. He groaned and she returned her body's opening to his, spreading her knees as she guided him into her. Quickly, the pulsating beating of his blood turned into a rhythm of both bodies, hands clutching, moving with familiar touches in ways of long-time lovers.

Sara's panting breath warmed his neck. He felt another kind of tension developing as muscle contractions indicated her impending climax; he held her as she came, breathless, murmuring quiet words. Her legs wrapped around his as he rolled, feeling her lips against his neck, her tongue tasting his skin as her hands gripped the round muscles of his butt. His thrusts developed their own cadence and, swiftly, his own explosion of male passion caused him to collapse into the warm embrace and kisses of his wife.

_A/N: Our schedule for this story is to post a chapter every 5-7 days, longer chapters than usual, so please hang in there and enjoy this road trip, new environment for our fav couple and 5 kids!_


	2. Chapter 2

**A Few Days Continued, Time in the Triangle: Chapter 2**

Acceptance of the offered position, the end of the school term for Eli and Bizzy, hurried days of planning a move, remodeling a house, packing, contracts, emails, phone calls, and letters filled six weeks. The neighbors, who were more than neighbors but extended family members, took responsibility for looking after the vacant house and property—the bees, the gardens, even Hank who often spent hours in the quiet company of the group sensed a departure or change and seemed to chose temporary guardianship of the women at the farm instead of the disruption of the Grissom household.

Familiar workmen arrived to review plans for construction of a new kitchen, bathrooms, more closets, and a few additional secrets that Grissom managed to arrange. Lilly, the housekeeper who knew the needs, habits, and wants of the family, would oversee packing and storage of furniture and belongings once they left. She was also the 'keeper of the books'—those numerous lists made for emergencies and mail and utilities, of things left behind, and a hundred other bits and pieces that might be needed in an owner's absence.

"I can't believe we are doing this!" Sara sat between Lilly and Sister Deborah as they went over remodeling lists—faucets, tubs, cabinets, paint colors, tiles, lights, and a dozen other items that needed to be decided for additions and new rooms.

The two women laughed. One said, "The Garcia brothers are good contractors. They know you and Gil—you will be so pleased to have this done. And more space—you need more space."

"Besides," said the older woman, who had known Sara longer than anyone in her life, "you need this adventure. You need to stretch your brain beyond first grade books!" She held Will in her lap. "These little ones will grow so much—that's my only regret—but this will be a fun experience." She raked a loving hand through his hair. "He's going to be a little boy in six month, no longer a baby." As she talked the baby had turned to look at her, smiling, showing a row of white teeth, and displaying a cleft in his chin so like his father's.

Sister Deborah asked, "Have you decided just how you will get five children and a husband across the country?"

Sara closed the notebook, saying "That's Gil Grissom's responsibility—driving." A laugh formed as she shook her head. "But not sure just how we are going to fit all of us and a few bags into the van." She looked at each woman. "Tell me I'm not crazy for doing this."

"No, no," both women agreed. "Adventure," said one. "Road trip—great vacation," said the other.

…Boxes, labeled with contents, were stacked several feet high in what was meant to be a living room or den yet had functioned as a multi-purpose living dining area for the Grissom's. Sara stretched out across the empty sofa thinking she had packed everything a family could possibly need for six months, yet there seemed to be a never-ending one-last-object of need or affection to go in one more box. She had systematically labeled each box with contents and a room. And her house was still filled with furniture, books, toys, cookware, plates, photographs—all destined to be packed and unused for six months.

Grissom arrived with two more books, holding them up with raised eyebrows. "Two more?" He asked.

Sara pointed to an open box. "Gil, we have got to stop! Nothing else goes in. The movers come tomorrow—so last chance."

He tossed the books into the container before joining her on the couch. "We're doing good. How many boxes—forty, fifty—that's only seven each." He sighed and stretched beside her, twisting and shifting his body until he had managed to arrange space for both. "I like quiet time." He snuggled, kissing her neck, before she responded by finding his mouth.

"Better enjoy this, dear." She grinned. "You are the one who decided two weeks in a van with five kids was the way to travel across the country." Her fingers played with his ear. "And sleeping in two rooms—and I'm still not sure about this house we are moving into."

He kissed her again. "We'll do fine. Really," seeing her eyes darken in seriousness. "Eli and Bizzy are excited about everything. The others are just excited." He kissed her. "Admit it—you are excited."

Her head went to his shoulder, her hand played with the buttons of his shirt. "I think I'm more nervous than excited right now."

Grissom's hand cradled her face. "We'll be fine. We'll make frequent stops, spend a couple of days in Vegas—and Greg will exhaust the kids. The van has plenty of room."

She nodded. He was right; she worried needlessly most of the time. She had worried about their van and he arrived with a new one, fitted with extra storage, seats for eight, DVD screens that dropped from the roof, even a cooler. She worried about the university's house even after she had gotten a list of furnishings that included all the furniture, even the numbers of plates and forks in each cabinet. An infant crib would be in place and the stairway already had safety gates.

Sara felt a nuzzle against her neck and a hand sliding along her thigh. "No time, lover boy," she whispered. "Sister Deborah called a few minutes ago saying they were on their way." She rolled and straddled him. "Too late," she giggled, the light-sounding laughter that he loved. "Maybe later if you are lucky."

He trapped her hands in his. "Later—don't forget." She leaned to kiss him, thinking she never let him forget but fatigue had prevented those regular midnight occurrences of physical attention they both craved. As she kissed him, opening her mouth against his, they both heard distance noise of laughing children...

"Are we doing the right thing, Gil?" She stood in the darkened room, wrapped in a light weight robe after a quick shower.

He pulled her onto the bed. Finally the house was quiet. Four children were asleep in their beds with the fifth lying beside him. Will had decided to stay awake after a late nap and had come into their bed for two bedtime stories, rehearsing every animal sound he knew, and trying sleep fighting antics until father had pretended sleep and son had finally closed him eyes.

"Let me put him to bed," Grissom said, reaching to lift the small boy into his arms.

Sara stopped him. "Let him stay until you shower." She grinned. "Some times, I just like to—to look at him." Her fingers gently lifted a golden ringlet. "He's such a sweet baby—Sister Deborah said he would be a little boy in six months."

Grissom's voice softened to a husky whisper. "He's already a little boy, Sara." He chuckled. "And when you decide to cut those curls you'll see a little boy." He rolled off the bed. "I'll be quick."

Sara's hand passed over the baby's arm, resting it lightly on his chest, feeling the soft steady beat of Will's heart. He was a living breathing replica of his father, down to the shape of his toes, the obvious indentation on his chin and the curls on his head. She smiled as she lifted a small hand examining each finger before she kissed it. When the twins were born, they had a resemblance to their father that grew as they did—blond curls, a slight, enigmatic smile, blue eyes of the same color, sturdy legs and plump arms. But Will had arrived with Grissom's looks—hairline, dimpled chin, curls—all were marks of genetics that grew stronger with each passing day. She kissed his other hand as he made a contented grunt.

Will would always be her baby—the little boy she wanted to complete her family; the baby that came after sadness of loss, of emergency surgery, of days lying in bed waiting for him to grow, and ending her ability to have another. And he came into the world as sunshine after a cloudy day, almost never crying, learning quickly from his brother and sisters with a natural ability to tilt his head, lift his eyebrow in a mirror image of Gil Grissom.

Her finger moved along his hand tracing tiny lines in his palm before his fingers closed around hers. His eyelashes lay as golden crescents against cheeks pinked by the sun; his lips moved slightly and smiled as he slept. She kissed the top of his head and wrapped an arm around him. In his sleep, he snuggled against her. She breathed deeply savoring the scent of the baby's skin, his hair, and soft breaths.

Grissom's voice startled her from this state of amazing awe she entered when reflecting on her children. "Do you like what you see?" He asked—he would examine them in the same way in calm moments.

She smiled. "He's so much like you."

He carefully crawled into their bed reaching across the sleeping child to touch her face. "Your children have your soul, Sara—your love for everything good, your excitement for living." The baby between them stretched his arms and legs and wiggled. "I'll move this guy before he decided to wake up."

In a few minutes, Grissom returned to find lights dimmed, covers smoothed back. Neither found it necessary to talk yet the sound of a low, husky laugh, warmed by happiness came to Sara's ears as he came into bed. He undressed her almost as swiftly as he had undressed himself, tossing shirts and boxers and her pajamas into a careless heap beside the bed.

He rolled onto his back and pulled her to his chest, framing her face with both hands as he kissed her with an urgency that brought a deep moan from his chest. He slipped one hand along her back to the swell of her hips.

She kissed his throat, his chest, tasting his skin with her tongue. She had studied his body in the same way she examined her children; she knew every crease, every dimple, the smoothness of his chest, the musculature of each arm, the scars on his elbow, below his ear. The tickle of his beard against the soft, unclothed areas of her body, his tan face she held in her hands, and his lips as a smile developed seconds before he kissed her worked a powerful and miraculous action on her as she felt her body tightened at his touch as his fingers dipped lower, finding where she already ached for him.

He stroked, caressed, brought his lips to hers as he relished the hot pleasure of being intimately touched by the woman he loved. He smiled as he saw the radiant dark eyes watching him. His palm moved to her thigh as she twisted against his erection opening her legs to him. His tongue traced her lips as he heard the quick intake of air. His hand moved back to her center, that core of feminine desire and gently touched the small, delicate bud, with tender touches he probed until she moaned against his chest. He felt her impending climax, the constriction of muscles against his fingers.

"Gil." She whispered his name before the soft explosion occurred; her body trembled before she settled softly against his chest. She kissed him, her lips circling each nipple, moving to his neck, to his ear, until he turned to find her mouth. Each captured the other in a lock of passion, her hands around his neck, his hands held her hips against his. He rolled.

And passionate play followed as the two long-time lovers joined in the rite as old as mankind, finding a breathtaking delight in each other. They had danced in riddles for years before fate and circumstances moved each to follow paths that eventually converged into the life they had made together. They had determined, unintentionally but with purpose, to live in a rural area, deciding neither of them was suited for long periods of time spent in crowded spaces.

As passion exploded in each, as both minds thought of crashing waves, swirling whirlpools of water, the tug of something more powerful than the physical actions of their bodies, they knew their hearts were in the right place, with the other, regardless of where they lived…

Even with careful explanations, a large map pinned to the wall marked with dozens of places of interest, a photograph of the house where they would live, small children have limited perceptions of what it means to move, to leave a place called home for a new and different environment. Eli and Bizzy saw an adventure, old enough to name places to visit, to have expectations for the future. Will, as a toddler, was oblivious to anything but eating, having familiar people around him, playing along side a sister or brother, and having parents near him.

However, Annie and Ava were uncertain what all the turmoil meant—to see toys and favorite clothes packed into boxes, watching with wide eyes as things disappeared brought new emotions. When movers arrived, Eli, Bizzy, and Will happily left with neighbors. The twins balked, uncharacteristically clinging to their mother in a sudden act of dependence.

"Let them stay," Sara said when one of the women tried to take one child. "We'll walk over later."

Annie and Ava calmed and played quietly or followed Sara from room to room as box after box was carried from the house. When tagged toys—a wagon, a scooter, a four-wheel push trike for two—were placed inside large boxes, the girls watched. Sara heard a quiet snuffle from Annie, and looking down, realized both children were silently crying. Some invisible connection between the two had caused tears to flow—she knew they communicated in ways beyond words. She gathered both girls into a hug.

"What's going on? Your toys are moving with us! They need a box like we need a suitcase."

The man wrapping each toy in packing paper stopped what he was doing. "Is this your trike?" He asked. "Come help me wrap it up so it gets there safely." He held out a hand.

The girls looked first to Sara then the stranger who had been in their house all morning. "Go ahead," Sara said. "Help him pack your toys." She wiped faces with the hem of her shirt and watched as the man laughed and let little hands wrap their toys; tears forgotten in a few minutes as they helped moved the box to the truck while Sara followed behind.

"All these boxes are your things," the man explained. "We are going to drive the truck and you will come with your mom and dad." He gestured around the van. "All your things would not fit in your car, would they?"

The little girls solemnly shook their heads, curls bouncing around their shoulders. Ava pointed to packing quilts. "Do you sleep in here?" She asked.

The man laughed again. "No baby, those are for keeping things safe. Things that won't fit in a box."

Annie asked, "Like Hank?"

Sara laughed. "Hank's the dog," she explained. "No, remember, Hank is going to stay with Sister Deborah. Why don't we walk over and let these men pack all our things. I think there might be cookies waiting for us."

_A/N: Thanks for reading. Another chapter coming soon!_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Another chapter quickly--as you requested! Maybe another one by Sunday--enjoy!_

**A Few Days Continued, Time in the Triangle: Chapter 3**

They were in the van, leaving later than planned, with more in the van than Sara intended, amid giggles and questions from five children. The family waved to neighbors and Lilly and Hank—who seemed content to sit at the feet of the women. The excitement of a trip gradually faded and Sara hit the play button for entertainment from the van's DVD player. With frequent stops, the drive to their first stop stretched longer than planned along a highway of foothills and streams with mountains in the distance.

"We did great," Grissom said as he folded bed covers over two sleeping children. And with everyone in the same room, sleep came quickly for everyone. Another half day's drive would get them to Las Vegas where a rest stop would mean visiting with friends.

The second day found a landscape of brown scrub, rocky outcroppings, and barren land with few adequate rest stops. Grissom pulled to a stop at a remote crossroads where two lonesome looking stores sat at opposite corners.

"They need to run around," he said as he parked on the edge of black pavement. "It's here or another place just like this."

Sara grimaced, seeing the lazy dogs trying to find shade underneath scrubby trees. "We'll do fine." While not the cleanest place she had ever been in, it wasn't the worse.

By mid-afternoon, the distance shape of man-made monuments of Las Vegas, shining in the afternoon sun, was ahead of them. Grissom avoided tourist traffic, working his way through neighborhood streets to find the address. It always amazed Grissom that normal, well-behaved children—his—became absolutely untamed little creatures in the presence of the person they called Uncle Greg.

Greg Sanders lived in mid-century neighborhood—no high rise condo or tract home for the avid Las Vegas historian. His book sales had been a financial windfall for furnishing his home with play things—a pinball machine, a pool table, stacks of games and toys from his childhood—all available for the entertainment of his best friend's children. And he added to this collection almost weekly—finding pull toys, and costumes and dolls, trucks and dinosaurs. He was waiting on the porch when the van turned into the driveway, taking a moment to shout something over his shoulder.

Before the van was stopped, before Sara or Grissom could open a door, the five passengers belted into seats were shouting, waving and jostling to get out of the vehicle. Friends appeared behind Greg, but he was first—opening Sara's door before she could release her seatbelt, swinging the passenger door open just as quickly, fumbling with harnesses, tickling the girls, and exclaiming over the growth of Eli and Will.

Jim Brass, Nick Stokes, and Catherine Willows had followed Greg, greeting Sara and Gil Grissom as long time friends. Sara knew they were in a place with enjoyable company where her children would be indulged and pampered and protected. This extended family of former co-workers needed no introductions, no explanations.

Late in the day, after everyone had eaten, children had been bathed, and the adults talked as each sleepy child had found warm arms and willing laps to rest in, conversations turned to the past, to investigations, to victims, to the bizarre, and the mundane, and to the lost friend whose son slept in Catherine's arms.

"The ones who got away—I lost sleep over those, when the victim's never got a day in court," said Grissom. He and Jim Brass swirled a favorite amber liquid in tumblers. They would talk most of the night, long after the others had gone home or found a bed in one of the empty bedrooms in Greg's home.

Brass lifted a finger. "Lurie—the doctor. Killed the nurse in her bathroom."

"That's one. Remember Ben Jennings."

"Pam Adler," commented Sara.

"And Warrick." This was Nick. They looked at him, questioning his words. "He never got his day in court," Nick said as an explanation. "Half the department still thinks he was on the take—in with Gedda and McKean—the suspicion is always there."

The friends continuing talking until someone's phone sounded. Nick said, "Well, the city never sleeps and neither does crime." He attempted to lift himself and the child he was holding out of the chair, but sat back with a quiet laugh. "I think I'm stuck."

Grissom was the one who lifted Ava from Nick who said "Bad back" as Catherine tease with "Where are those muscles, Nicky?"

…Grissom heard the whispers before he got to the kitchen; he slept longer than usual after staying up too late talking with Jim and Catherine. Then the kids played musical beds—two crawling into bed with their parents, another waking Sara to go to the bathroom—and Sara moved to another bed for some reason. He left Eli and Annie sprawled across the bed he just left—or been pushed from my two children.

He heard Greg's quiet laugh, then silence. Entering the kitchen, he found his wife with arms wrapped around Greg.

"Stop seducing my wife, Greg." He grumbled, a good-natured tease, one of long-standing between the three.

Sara turned. "Greg has a girlfriend—as serious one!" She said. "We get to meet her later!"

Greg's girlfriend was a lovely, pleasant park ranger who laughed at his jokes, played with the Grissom children who were as fascinated by the young woman as she was with them. When parents slipped away for a short while, none of the children noticed their absence.

"Catherine still brings flowers," Sara said as she placed her own bouquet beside the grave marker.

Grissom said nothing as he stood in silent reflection, remembering events, decisions, certain accomplishments, and with his thoughts came the memory of failures and the one person who slipped from life so quickly. Sara came to his side, wrapping an arm around his waist. They remained still, a connected history that meant words were unnecessary for now.

Grissom sighed. "We need to get back."

The next day, their trip continued, north and east to Denver, spending a night in one of the small towns along the highway in the middle of the Rockies; the children played in sand dunes in the morning and a grassy mountain meadow in the afternoon; after a day of intense play in Las Vegas, a day of riding and napping and watching funny movies was easy as miles and mountains passed.

In Denver, they found dinosaurs and bugs in a museum, swings and forts in a playground, and food—well prepared vegetarian food—that satisfied hunger. An intense blue sky framed mountains behind the van as the family's trip continued. Quickly suburbs became fields of green and gold, stretching across half of Colorado and all of Kansas.

"With a very long drive, we can make Kansas City in a day," Grissom had suggested. The barns, fences, grain elevators, and wind farms passed in rapid succession. Before noon, clouds had formed on the eastern horizon, a forecast of coming rain.

Before mountains disappeared behind them, they found a place to stop—a roadside prairie planted to show the modern day traveler how the area appeared when the first wagon trains crossed the middle of the country. A replica covered wagon and two plastic oxen provided a climbing playground for children who stopped at this isolated place. Sara let Grissom sleep on a bench while she took photographs of her kids sitting atop the fake oxen, crowded together on the bench of the wagon, of the girls running in wild flowers, and boys tumbling in tall grasses.

After an hour, Grissom stood, stretched, whistled and waved. He could drive another six hours to find a bed, he thought, and they were more than half way to their destination.

The rain came hours before Kansas City, making the drive longer as highway markers disappeared in the rain fog. A massive truck stop provided meals in an atmosphere of loud music, voices, smells of eggs and grease, a jumble of toys for sale, and a place where the noise of children did not disrupt anyone. After saying no to plastic skulls, swords, guns, and child-size plastic robots, each child made a purchase, and their trip continued.

Two nights in Kansas City gave down time for parents and play time for children. Parks and playgrounds were clean and green, and perfect for breathless running and climbing of children. Even in a city known for steaks, Sara found a vegetarian restaurant and everyone filled stomachs on familiar foods.

It rained across Missouri; a torrential drenching causing Sara to make a decision for fast food with an enclosed playground—three times in one day. Everyone needed out of the van. Rain continued into the night but at least they had found a hotel with a real suite of rooms and an inside kid's pool.

They crossed the Mississippi in fog and drizzle and were well east of Memphis before sun cleared the fog.

"It's so green here," Eli announced from his back row seat. And the passing roadside did look like a jungle. Thick vines grew along the highway, covering trees and hanging in long green ropes.

"That's kudzu," Grissom said. He laughed as he said, "It grows very fast in the south—like a weed." He glanced in the mirror to catch Eli's eye. "Don't stand still in the middle of it or you'll be covered!"

"Can we eat it?" Bizzy asked.

"I don't think so—I think goats eat it."

"There are not enough goats," she replied.

The next day they reached the Smoky Mountains, stopped for two nights and walked through pioneer cabins and barns, waded in mountain streams that brought squeals from the children, and hiked a short path to a hidden waterfall.

With their destination within a day's drive, Sara paced their hotel room after everyone else was bathed and asleep. Even Grissom had slept soundly on this trip; his restful breathing providing assurance to his children that all was well and right in their world. And when one woke in the middle of the night, he moved and made room in their bed, placing the child between he and Sara. Tonight, everyone but Sara was asleep and she checked each child, repacked bags, picked up toys and books and the normal detritus left by children.

The three girls were together in one bed, Eli was alone in another, and Will lay curled in a hotel crib in the same room where Grissom slept. She sat on Eli's bed, tucking the sheet around his shoulders.

He stirred and she padded his back. Her worries for the trip had been unfounded. The children had behaved, had shown extraordinary patience with the long drives, and with helping each other. They did not fight; they did not disagree—much, and were generally happy children, even when closed into the small space of a van for over two thousand miles. Sara stretched beside her oldest son yet sleep did not come.

Instead, more worries developed and crowded her thoughts. Had their boxes arrived? Would they find the house as described? Would she be able to handle the research and keep everyone happy at home, be the mom she wanted to be? She must have dosed, or else been so deep in thought she did not sense Grissom until his hand touched her shoulder.

"Come to bed, honey."

"I couldn't sleep—I—I guess I did."

His arm went around her. "We're going to be fine. What's worrying you?"

She told him, putting voice to her thoughts, finding quiet laughter as he listened and comforted her, reassured her that whatever problems that came would be solved; if not solved, they would work it out. And, gently, quietly, with intimate gestures and responses, they made love and Sara slept.


	4. Chapter 4

**A Few Days Continued, Time in the Triangle Chapter 4**

…Grissom woke first, or so he thought. A small warm body, Eli, pressed against him, sleeping in the crook of his arm. Watching the child sleep, he thought about the boy's father, as he had done so often in the passing years. He felt his stomach tighten; guilt over what should have been and about what actually happened. He knew Warrick had not died alone; he had been there. The days and weeks before his death had seen a slow dissolution of a friendship, a separation of supervisor and employee. Yet, before the end, they were together, as friends, as colleagues. And now Warrick's son was his own. His hand gently touched the child's hair.

Against his back, his wife slept, or so he thought. Sara was also awake, holding another child, Will, who had woke in a strange place. To keep from disturbing the others, Sara had moved him into their bed. She had remained awake, anxious or worry or apprehension creeping back to the front of her thoughts. This trip, the next six months, was a tremendous change, not just for her, but for every member of her family. She wanted to do this research, a rare opportunity; Grissom insisted they would be fine. She wanted to believe him, but she worried.

She remembered as a child she had loved doing intricate five hundred piece puzzles, been absorbed and fascinated as an image emerged. She loved the sound and feel of the puzzle pieces going into place. And her life, she had decided, was much as a puzzle—putting pieces together, managing five children or dressing one child or writing the unembellished outline for an article on a specialized area of physics. A finished puzzle was perfection and she fought that secret compulsion on a daily basis. And each child had lessened her constant struggle.

With her writing, and when she presented papers at conferences, she always felt the same intoxication, the same euphoria, she felt with her children. One minute she knew everything was possible; the next it seemed a frightening, unworkable situation, but like the puzzles of her childhood, one piece, one minute at a time, and life took shape. Her primary ambition, her wish for her children was for a secure, happy childhood; this research was secondary, a gift as a result of a slim volume explaining basic mechanisms and measurements of radiation physics.

Brushing curls away from Will's face, she felt Grissom's foot touch hers, a leg wrapped about her leg.

"I'm awake," she whispered.

He stirred, trying to move without waking others. "I'll go for coffee," he said, finding it easier to slide to the end of the bed.

The last segment of their trip was along a scenic byway of the oldest mountains in the country, and, if possible, the trees became more vibrant green with each foot of elevation. The air became cooler; the clear azure sky made a canopy over fertile valleys and wild flower covered mountain sides. Traffic slowed to a more reasonable pattern as frequent overlooks and turnouts created viewpoints for tourists.

Numerous phone calls had assured Sara that their belongings had arrived, the house was ready, and someone would meet them on arrival.

They stood on the curved paved driveway and looked at the carved letters over the porch: The Spicer House. After so many days in a small space, an awkward silence had descended over the family of seven as they stood in front of the building that would be home for the next six months. The house and yard were carefully and meticulously maintained; hedges trimmed, flowers growing in a rainbow of colors; neatly painted windows hung with blinds. A large potted fern grew in a blue pot on the porch and a flowering vine covered porch railings.

The silence and stillness of five children lasted only a few minutes.

"Do we go inside?" Asked Bizzy.

Grissom shifted Will, saying, "Perhaps we should ring the bell first." But before he could reach the door, it opened.

A small, dark-haired woman smiled. "You're here!" She reached out her hand, first to Sara, saying her name and did the same with Grissom. "You made good time today—we've got everything ready." She opened the door waving everyone inside. "Come in, come in. Children, we have cookies and toys this way."

Sara caught a blurred glimpse of a living room, a dining room, passing a piano to reach a kitchen as big as half of her house. One end of the room held a table large enough for ten or more people. Two people, a young man and a younger woman, were waiting. The mention of cookies and toys had gotten children to the table.

Introductions were made; Sara would be working with these three as well as half a dozen others on the research project. Presently, as the children ate cookies and found a basket of new toys, Grissom, Sara, and Dr. Yung toured the house.

"The beds are new. We've put food in the refrigerator—a casserole—vegetarian and lots of fruits, cereals. The house has been used for years for visiting faculty, so feel free to make it your own. What you don't find in the rooms can probably be found in the attic."

Downstairs they were shown large rooms with furniture from the distant past to relatively recent—a living room, a formal dining room, a den, a conservatory or sun room, a laundry room the size of a small bedroom with enough linens, towels, and sheets to keep a small motel operating, a bedroom with sitting area and bathroom once used by a live-in chaperon when female students lived in the house. Their boxes had been placed in the den and downstairs bedroom. The house was spacious and clean; the furniture well maintained and smelled of lemon oil.

"Six bedrooms upstairs," Dr. Yung said. "At one time, twelve students lived in the house each semester—when girls were expected to be homemakers and wives." She laughed, a light ringing sound that Sara was to hear often in the coming months. "That's before most of us realized we could do math and science!"

These rooms were as spacious as downstairs with a bath shared by two bedrooms. She slid a gate across the stairway. "At one time, the house had three children, just babies, who lived here—loaned from parents who could not take care of them. It was quite a leap in research to have this 'living' laboratory on campus."

Sara and Grissom followed, trying to absorb everything she was saying—trash pick-up, a near-by playground, a short walk to the elementary school, a college laundry, the building behind the house, the heat—not needed for months, the operation of air conditioners. Dr. Yung's constant barrage of instructions and suggestions halted after they had walked through three bedrooms and two bathrooms.

"I am lost—where is the next bedroom?" She laughed, glancing back at Sara and Grissom. "I'm sorry! You can figure out the floor plan, I'm sure. Let's go back downstairs, check on your children." Going downstairs, she said, "There is a notebook in the dining room with everything in it—phone numbers, maps, how to turn on the television—there's only one in the house."

By the time they returned to the kitchen, the children and the young man and woman were outside where the children found the best part of their new home. A play structure worthy of any municipal playground stood in the middle of the back yard with swings, a trapeze, a ladder to a platform, a scoop slide—enough to keep a dozen children playing for hours.

"For several years the house was used as a child care center and when they moved out, the play structure remained," Dr. Yung explained. "We knew your family would enjoy this. Campus maintenance checked it out, put new sand out last week."

Grissom and Sara starred with open mouths as their children found new excitement in familiar play.

"Thank you," Sara said.

"Christine and Scott will stay for a while. Someone will be here tomorrow to help you. In a week, report to the lab—I'll call you with directions, but it's just four buildings away." She shook hands. "We are so happy you decided to come—I know it's difficult with small children. I have six of my own, grown up now, but we had great fun doing just what you are doing now." She said goodbye but before leaving the house, she returned. "Dr. Grissom, the biology department chair has your name—you will be hearing from him. Something about a body farm—I don't want to know."

Grissom's eyebrows shot upwards. He smiled.

By nightfall, Grissom had unpacked the van, adding to the opened boxes and general disarray that ensued with unpacking. The children had found two new friends in Scott and Christine, asking dozens of questions, telling the two young adults about the dog left at home, about seeing a wagon train, and more.

With more beds in one house than they had ever seen, with bathrooms providing convenient links, a game of changing beds developed at bedtime until Sara firmly announced "girls in this room, Eli and Will in the adjoining room".

Grissom commented, "They will all be in my bed by morning."

_A/N: Enjoy! Another chapter almost ready! Read and review!! Thanks so much!_


	5. Chapter 5

**A Few Days Continued, Time in the Triangle Chapter 5**

…A persistent knocking at the back door woke Sara who was surprised to find she and Grissom were alone in bed. Somehow, everyone had remained asleep, in their bed for the first night in a new place. The knocking persisted and she crawled out of bed, pulled on jeans and the shirt she wore the day before to answer whoever had chosen this early hour to visit.

The back porch extended across the back of the kitchen and through the windows she could see one person, a woman in white, standing at the back door. She opened the door.

"I'm Pearlie May Owen," the woman said before Sara could say anything. Sara stood in the doorway with an obvious puzzled look on her face.

"I'm Pearlie May," the woman said again. "The maid—I—I come every day."

Sara remained in the doorway. She could not remember anyone mentioning a maid or housekeeper but she knew she was going to need one. "I'm sorry; no one told me you were coming."

The large woman chuckled a deep resonating sound that moved her very large bosom reminding Sara of the mall Santa's she avoided as a child. But this woman was no fake.

"The university employs me to keep house—I'm the one who made your beds."

Sara stepped back so she could enter. She carried a black purse—a big one, and her white dress 'swished' as she walked.

Sara asked, "You come every day?"

"Yes 'um." The purse went inside a cabinet behind the door. A white apron appeared in her hands. "If you say so, I will use my key, let myself in every morning." The woman's dark eyes looked at Sara. "Dr. Yung said you had a family with you."

"My husband and children."

Pearlie May moved around the kitchen, pulling blinds up, turning on a coffee pot before opening the refrigerator. "You ate the casserole, I see. Dr. Yung said you didn't eat meat—don't think I've ever cooked for a vegetarian before now."

Hearing footsteps, they both turned to see Grissom in the doorway. Sara spoke first, "Gil, this is Ms. Owen." Sara held out her hand. "I'm Sara, my husband Gil Grissom."

"Nice to meet you both. We'll get along fine. I come in Monday to Friday and clean, keep things orderly. I'll cook meals for you as long as it's not fancy. For parties, I'll need help." She shook hands before opening the dishwasher. She stopped talking as she pulled out the dish rack. "Ah," she looked from the clean dishes to Sara and Grissom, back to the dishes. "Ah—how many children do you have?"

As if to answer her question, two curly heads appeared on either side of Grissom's legs—one very dark, the other very blonde—Eli and Annie smiled.

"Will is awake too," Eli announced, "but Ava and Bizzy are still…" he stopped when he realized a stranger stood in the middle of the kitchen. Annie had already seen the very large, very dark woman in white and slipped behind her dad's leg.

"Five," Sara said. "We have five."

"Little ones like these?" Pearlie asked, her voice loud in the quiet house, "or big ones—teenagers?"

Pearlie May Owen had worked for the university for forty years—more if she counted the afternoons after high school when she was paid to haul trash cans to the dumpsters. She considered it a promotion when she went from custodian to house maid, even if she worked as chief maid, cook and laundress for the girls in the House. And the House became her second home.

Pretty girls going out the front door left a mighty mess in bedrooms, and bathrooms, even the dining room and kitchen. But she worked, picking up their expensive clothes, washing dainty panties and bras, cleaning the bathrooms when 'accidents' or 'illness' happened. She saw it all for two decades until living at the House was no longer considered necessary for girls graduating from college.

She remained at the House when the downstairs furniture was shoved into upstairs rooms, and all the downstairs rooms were turned into a child care center. It made her feel good to help those babies whose mother's were at the college. She cooked and cleaned, rocked them to sleep in what she considered her best years, that time in life when her own child bearing had ended with one son. She enjoyed the comfort of calming little babies. The center moved into a new, modern child care building—one with real fire exits and no stairs, with a kitchen hidden at the back so she would not have to step over a gate blocking the door and she was asked to move with the center.

However, that had been around the time her own baby, a young man not twenty years old, had died and she kept working at the House, avoiding children and babies. Her son had been killed in a far-away city and shipped home for burial in a cheap metal coffin. She wanted to grieve for her son, not hold other babies who were laughing and happy, unaware of what was in the future.

Pearlie May stayed at the House. Furniture was moved again, blinds replaced, floors sanded and polished, bathrooms and kitchen was ungraded. She was the one who dusted, polished the shine back into the wood, and vacuumed all the dust from neglected, hidden corners, put china and linens back in cabinets, packed dust covers, and unpacked mirrors and pictures and hung them on hooks recently vacated of children's artwork. It would be a house for visiting faculty, some staying a few weeks, others a year or half-year. It was her job to keep everything clean; to make sure visitors were satisfied with their stay in this house. Generally, she was successful—several families continued to send her cards or little gifts long after they moved.

Over the years, she had seen everything—the guy who brought his teenage son with him and they both smoked so much pot in the conservatory that she left the upper windows open for six months, even when it snowed. One couple with two little boys fed them cold cereal every meal until she decided no child should eat like that, spent her own money for peas, beans, tomatoes and cornbread. The little guys ate her food as if they were starving—which they were, in a way. She had cared for the teenage daughter of one professor of religion as the girl miscarried in one of the bedrooms upstairs, begging Pearlie May not to tell her parents. She didn't; they would find out soon enough what their daughter was doing. Or if not, the girl would be alright; she had access to money, she was smart. Some families she liked, others she loved, and a few she did not care for, but no one ever knew because she had learned many years ago to be courteous, to be respectful, to take care of each member of the family, and to keep the secrets of a family. She was the maid and that's what a good maid did.

She did not know much about this new family. She had made beds for seven, set up the crib, placed fresh towels in all the bathrooms. Dr. Yung, one of the researchers in the biomedical building, had told her there was a baby so Pearlie May had oiled the stairway gates and found one of the old door gates in the attic which she put behind the kitchen door. She was there when movers delivered all those boxes, neatly marked with labels, but she did not 'do' boxes. A young researcher had counted all the boxes, inspected each for damage, and directed the movers to the inside of the house. Pearlie May pointed to the back bedroom and the den. She did not want boxes cluttering her spotless living and dining room giving a poor impression of her clean house when the new family arrived.

This morning, she had arrived an hour later than normal, sat on the porch for another half-hour, and still no one was awake. She could have used her key, but that was impolite and ill-mannered to barge into someone's new home—even to get coffee started. So she knocked.

The woman who opened the door surprised Pearlie May with her appearance—at first she thought this young woman was a daughter, but on closer inspection, she was older than she appeared to be. She was the researcher. When the husband appeared, definitely older, but you married who you loved and age didn't count. Once he smiled, she could see years peeled away—he was almost handsome in a surprising way. He looked like he smiled about a lot of things. And before they could be introduced and served a cup of coffee, two little heads appeared from behind his legs.

One of the children was a skinny little brown skinned, green eyed boy—a story behind his parents—neither one of the people standing in her kitchen could be his 'real' parent. She was not an idiot, and in today's culture, they had probably adopted him in some foreign country like the movie stars do. The little girl obviously belonged to her daddy with that mass of curls on her head and those sparkling blue eyes just waiting to laugh at something. These two didn't belong in a crib; three more upstairs and one a baby.

The mother was saying something.

"Pardon?" Pearlie May asked, already caught day dreaming, and no one had been served coffee.

"Eli is our oldest," Sara repeated. "Elizabeth, we call her Bizzy, is next. That's Annie who has a twin, Ava. Will is the youngest." Looking at Pearlie May with brown eyes that were pleading for something, she added, "They are really good children. They won't cause problems—I—they are well behaved."

Five little children, Pearlie May thought. She had pulled a chair away from the table and sat down—under normal conditions, she would not sit at the kitchen table before noon, but five little children and their mother a researcher was enough to knock normal aside for a few minutes. She needed to catch her breath.

She stretched an arm toward the two children. "Come over here so I can meet you."

The boy was the first to move; the father placed a hand on the little girl's back and nodded before she would let go of his pants. Their mother, Sara, did not move, but Pearlie May knew she smiled when the children walked toward her arm.

She addressed the boy first. "You are a fine, handsome boy! Eli—that's a name from the Bible, you know." She gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "How old are you?"

He told her; school age, just.

The little girl's finger twirled a curl. She would be three or four, Pearlie May guessed. "And you are Annie—that's a pretty name. How old are you?"

She held up fingers, and then unexpectedly, she reached out to touch the older woman's hand, her fingers stroking the top of it. "Are you made of chocolate?" She asked looking up with the clearest blue eyes Pearlie May had ever seen.

Pearlie May heard an intake of air behind her and saw the man turn, covering his face with a hand. She laughed, "No, baby, I'm just black—very black—it don't rub off," and she laughed harder. "And I'm not good to eat either."

Eli turned to Annie. "That was bad manners, Annie. Say you are sorry to Mrs. Owen."

The little girl dropped her head, embarrassed by her words or her brother's admonition. Pearlie May leaned forward and took the child in her arms. She had missed babies and little children, and now she would have a house full for six months. There mother was right, they were well behaved.

"We going to get along just fine, just fine," she said as she sat Annie on the table and turned back to Eli, wrapping an arm around him. "We going to play in this big, old house, have some hide-outs, bake cookies. I bet there's some toys in those boxes and we can fill that sun room with all kinds of fun! Yes, sir! Pearlie May going to be the best maid your mama ever has." She was laughing, her chest heaving with a rich, deep laugh. "Now, what say having pancakes for breakfast, if your mama and daddy don't mind?" She finally looked at Sara. The look in her eyes had changed; the plea was no longer there. Her eyes were shiny and Pearlie May was sure it was from happiness.

The introductions to the rest of the family followed the same pattern; hesitancy for a few minutes followed by wide-eyed surprise at the large woman in the kitchen, and, when decorated pancakes appeared on plates, amazement and smiles. Pearlie May had never seen another family with the eyes of these children—even the girl who looked like her mother had the blue eyes of her father. She would have plenty to tell her sister about this family as they ate their supper each night before reclining in their chairs to watch television.

The first day in their new home established a pattern that would be followed for future days. Grissom and Sara unpacked boxes; children played and explored new spaces turning the sunroom into a toy room. Pearlie May arrived each morning in her white uniform with intentions of taking care of her new family. She succeeded.

"We're doing fine, Sara." Grissom lay propped on their bed, glasses perched on his nose as he read, waiting for her.

She smiled. "Yeah, we are." Her worry and anxiety level had plummeted as each day had seen her children settle into an easy routine. Pearlie May had been a gift for some unknown forgotten good deed; a gift from God Grissom said. She could charm Eli into eating vegetables and the twins into smiles when they pouted. Will had immediately been captivated by the broad smile on her face and warm arms that held him. Even Bizzy, so much like her mother, had developed a timid friendship with the large woman.

Sara turned off the light and opened the blinds to moonlight. She stood in silhouette and, as Grissom watched, she pulled her shirt over her head.

"Come to bed," he whispered.

As scientists, they knew about bodies—human, insect, animal. They knew about the damage caused by mental fear and physical attacks, the healing that came from desire. They had learned or heard the words for sex, for love, the fluids, the good and bad words used for bodily functions. Yet, they seldom used any scientific or common place descriptions for what happened between them.

Grissom had removed his clothing by the time Sara took the four or five steps to their bed. Very slowly, with immense delicate diversions and gentle desired delays, Grissom entered and took possession of this woman who grew warm against him. Some time later, he heard her clear voice cry out, uninhibited in pleasure, fulfillment, and satisfaction.

_A/N: Another one quickly! Thanks for reading, and your comments! Grissom has his own chapter coming up! _


	6. Chapter 6

**A Few Days Continued, Time in the Triangle Chapter 6**

…Sara joined the research group in radiation physics working on new systems to reduce damage to healthy cells in cancer treatment. It was a project that required more brain exertion than physical work, and Dr. Yung had learned to regulate hours, closing the door at certain times of the day and leaving the work on the desks. She got excellent results by providing time for lunch and an early end to the day. Other researchers in the building stayed long hours repeating processes and questioning whatever had been done until fatigue drove them away. But none were as successful as her methods—part personality, picking the right researcher, and the atmosphere she created of sharing jobs, processes, and results.

For the first time in years, Sara concentrated on a subject she had chosen in college—a field so specialized that most people never knew it existed—until they got a diagnosis of cancer, particular kinds of cancers, often inoperable, or where use of other techniques would cause severe damage to surrounding tissues. She studied reports, experiments, and mathematical models to predict what would happen. And, as the clock moved to an afternoon hour, the research lab closed and she walked home, put Will in his stroller and continued her walk to the university demonstration school.

The five Grissom children discovered a different way of living but not in extremes that causes disruption or discontent to them. For a few weeks, they were primarily in the presence of their father who had always been much more lenient than Sara when it came to their behavior. But with the help of Pearlie May, a routine was established; they ate good food, they explored the new house and ventured out to new playgrounds. By the time the school session began, Eli and Bizzy were excited about a new school, and Annie and Ava enrolled in a preschool program at the university's child care center. The question of Will's care was settled within days—the original plan of Grissom becoming his primary caretaker for six months never came about—when Pearlie May insisted she would keep the baby with her.

As for Gil Grissom, he knew the university maintained a small body farm an hour away from campus. He had contacted the administrator who was delighted to have a person with his extensive experience share a compassion for this unusual work. The biology department chair was thrilled to hire Grissom as adjunct faculty who would take students to the farm and be their teacher. Before the first day of the term, Grissom had visited the body farm, driving a university truck along isolated back roads, opening several gates along the way, to find the hidden plot of land tucked away at the edge of a government owned forest preserve. Isolation did not begin to describe how remote the place was—no electricity, no running water, no plumbing. Bathroom facilities consisted of an outhouse, a small box built over a pit, a rain barrel served as a hand washing sink. He loved it.

As with anyone in new surroundings, Sara, Grissom and their children found new interests and enjoyment—music presented in the grove, a large grass lawn surrounded by century old oaks, became a weekly outing and ignited an interest for Eli. He watched as musicians played and gravitated to the piano in the house. Within days, Sara had found a student to begin piano lessons for a natural gift he seemed to have.

When a gymnastic tournament was held in the field house, Sara took her daughters and all three were convinced they had found a passion, spending hours trying to immolate what they had seen. Sara found another student who came weekly and helped four children learn basic tumbling. Grissom placed a heavy timber on blocks for them to use as a balance beam—twelve inches above the ground.

A routine standardized test resulted in a telephone call from the principal and Bizzy's teacher, sounding concerned, requesting an immediate meeting with parents to discuss her progress. When Sara and Grissom arrived, expecting bad news, they learned of their child's remarkable intelligence. Her scores on the test had placed her at the top of the chart; another test had been given with similar results.

"She's a genius—we've never had a child score this high in our memory," the teacher explained.

"We think she should have special attention," the principal said. "She can easily skip a grade—perhaps two. I'm not sure we have the resources she needs."

Sara dropped her head, relieved at being told what she already knew. Grissom tried to hide his satisfied and prideful expression. Sara would not like his boast of what they already knew and he did not want the teacher or principal to think their concerns were unappreciated. He wanted Sara to talk; she kept her head tucked and refused to meet his eyes even as he cleared his throat several times.

"We know—we've known that Bizzy has a very high intelligence for several years." Grissom said. "We work with her at home—her mother does a lot of work with her." He was stumbling around for words to explain when nothing could really convey to these educators of normal children what it meant to grow up labeled 'genius'. He coughed and finally Sara took pity on him.

She smiled at the teacher and principal. "We do appreciate all you've done—she's been tested before—it doesn't bother her at all. Her reading level is around sixth-seventh grade, math is probably higher. We—we talk to her about how much she knows, how easy it is for her to learn. We have also chosen, for now, for her to remain with children her own age. Does she cause problems in the classroom, with her classmates?"

"No, never. If anything, she helps the others. She's very quiet. Her work is always neat—I know she pretends to take longer on her work than what she actually needs. She will miss spell a word when I know she knows the correct spelling." The teacher handed Sara several papers. "I don't want her to become frustrated, for her to give up."

"She won't. She has diversion—she does crossword puzzles, she reads the encyclopedia, she does math problems. She realizes she is smart and she desperately wants to be well-liked, to have friends." Sara looked at Grissom. "And we want her to have a normal childhood, to play kid games, to be free of a label—if you understand."

The teacher understood. She realized she was looking at the face of a woman who had been labeled and lived the experience of that word given to a child. The teacher smiled. "I'll do my best while we have her here," she assured the parents.

…Summer's lush green turned to the colorful shades of autumn in a few days as a cool front moved across the mountains and the campus. Heat traveling through underground pipes clanked and banged as the house was warmed by some huge furnace working across campus. Every day Pearlie May's early morning coffee permeated upstairs to wake the sleeping family. They had made the house their own; the glass enclosed sunroom had become a play area. Upstairs, Sara had arranged three beds in one room for her daughters. The boys slept in the adjoining room, yet on cool mornings, Eli often moved to sleep between Grissom and Sara. If Will woke in the middle of the night, he, too, slept with his parents. And occasionally, one or all of the girls found a place in their parent's bed. Grissom complained, but secretly loved having his kids in bed in the mornings, knowing before he opened his eyes which ones were crowding him from the bed.

This morning as he tried to roll over he found himself wedged between Eli on one side and Annie on the other. Ava had found a way to curl herself around her mother's head. Everyone would be awake by the time he crawled out of bed, so he lay still. He knew Pearlie May was downstairs, singing a song as she prepared their breakfast; she lived her name—very rare, very fine, and very valuable.

…Grissom was in a bug lover's paradise. Two days a week he drove students to the body farm to study cadavers in various stages of decomp. Not all were human cadavers; there were lots of pigs, several horses, a few cows. Some of the students dropped out early in the semester—could not take the smell or the fluids or the bugs, but the ones who continued were making great progress in their study of insect activity on a corpse. They were moving forward, tracking which insects arrived at each stage of decomposition. Another day, he came alone to study. The caretaker administrator, a man named John, was there every day and the two men often worked side by side without speaking or they would sit, leaned against a metal building and talk for hours as they ate sandwiches and drank whatever they had brought from home.

The two men had talked more about insect activity, relating stories they knew from personal experiences or had read in journals. Today, Grissom told of walking into a room to find blood spatter covering a floor and wall, enough to cause everyone to think death was the result of a gunshot. However, the medical examiner found nothing on or inside the body to indicate a fatal wound.

"One of my investigators—she's my wife now—kept going back to those blood drops. In the middle of the night, we went back to that damn room—everyone else is looking for a gun and she's looking at spatter. We opened the door to the room and it looked alive. I'm talking thousands of roaches running everywhere! Before she thought about it, she stepped on a dozen cockroaches then started apologizing because I had a few as 'pets' then. We looked at her feet and those dead roaches were spilling blood—the victim's blood!

"We started collecting roaches, took them back to the lab and I collected cockroach crap for three days—every time, it was bloody and on a wall or the floor—looked just like blood spatter! The poor guy had died in a room full of roaches that proceeded to eat him." The two men were laughing.

John said, "You married a good woman—to even go into a room full of roaches—takes a certain kind of woman!"

"Yeah, she's a good one—and she hates bugs." Grissom chuckled.

They returned to work in a light drizzle that did nothing to slow the work of insects, collecting specimens, writing notes on the plastic covered clipboards that were placed near each corpse. Grissom continued working his way around the outer perimeter, double fenced to keep predators and prying eyes out of the farm. Each body was covered with a net of wire to prevent birds from devouring the corpse yet a black crow perched above his head watched his movements. It reminded him of a Las Vegas case where a bird watcher had found an eyeball in a nest. He looked up just as the bird dropped a small white object that landed several feet from him.

He picked it up, knowing as he held it between his fingers it was an early stage first instar maggot barely 5 millimeters long. The bird flew and he was left holding what should have been a bird's snack and it did not belong here.

"John!" He knew the caretaker was somewhere in the enclosed area. He called again and heard an answer. He headed in that direction keeping the tiny maggot in his palm.

"Have you placed a new one out here?" Grissom asked as he held out his hand. Grissom was certain all the bodies had been in place for weeks. This maggot belonged on something recently dead—a few days at most.

John shook his head saying "Must be a dead cow or deer around here." Both men tilted their heads and sniffed.

"Think we can find it?" asked Grissom. Both men grinned and headed to the gate.

An hour later, they continued to walk in ever widening circles knowing if they did not find whatever was dead soon, it would be another day or two before they could hunt for the freshly deceased.

"Look," John said and pointed upwards. "Buzzards—they have found it." They walked in the direction of the birds.

The drizzling rain continued as the two men made their way through the undergrowth of the forest but the wetness bothered neither man.

At the same time, both men saw what was ahead of them. John was the first to realize they were looking at the blue fabric of a small tent. Grissom started running.

"Oh, no," he whispered and stopped abruptly, holding out an outstretched arm to stop John's arrival. "It's two—people." Several large birds flew away.

_A/N: Grissom has to have a body or two! Enjoy! Thanks for reading..._


	7. Chapter 7

**A Few Days Continued, Time in the Triangle Chapter 7**

Before them was a small tent in a forest clearing. Backpacks and their contents were scattered about the disturbed forest floor. The bodies were several feet apart; one was face down lying in the flapped doorway of the tent, the other was positioned away from the tent, face up to the sky. A wound gapped open at the neck. Other wounds were visible but probably made by scavengers, birds, small animals.

"The trail isn't far from here—less than half a mile, I'd say," John explained. "Most likely these two were hiking but what happened?"

Grissom wiped his face. "It's a crime scene now. We need to call the sheriff." They continued standing in silence for several minutes.

"I think it'll be the park service—I'm not sure where we are, but I'll call the sheriff. He can get here pretty quick. Do you mind…" John's voice trailed off.

"I'll stay," Grissom said. He reached for his cell phone. He knew there would be no service in the remote area. "Would you call my wife—tell her I'll be late."

Grissom had worked crime scenes for too many years to stand idle when rain and scavengers were destroying evidence as he watched. He removed his jacket, took off his shirt, and proceeded to cut it into pieces. Looking around he found twigs and tied several 'flags' to each stick and carefully walked around the sight. On the opposite side of the clearing, he found a tract leading away. His first flag made from his shirt went into the ground. He found several faint shoe impressions; he stuck a flag near each print.

The small vials he had been using for insects he filled with the maggots and eggs collected from each body. He had no flashlight, no gloves, so he found and used a long stem to peek into the tent. Big enough for two people, sleeping bags unrolled, a few personal possessions. The body at the entrance was female. The other body, also female, was outside the tent; obvious drag marks indicated she had been pulled from near the tent to where she lay. Her neck wound had almost removed her head, deep incision, from ear to ear. Both were young, fit, dressed for hiking in cool weather. Both wore boots with similar soles.

He returned to circling the area searching for blood drops, for footprints, for anything he could find before the sun light faded. He almost missed the knife. The blade had gone underneath dry leaves; the handle was the color of the sticks and leaves around it. He planted his last shirt flag beside it. The rain had stopped but water continued to drip from trees keeping everything soggy; he zipped his jacket closed against the dampness with little success.

Knowing it would take John an hour or longer to call the sheriff, open three gates and wait for their arrival, Grissom backed away from the area and rested against a tree. Hopefully, his presence would keep larger predators away; the smaller ones were already there. He knew the forest was never really quiet, and as the sunlight faded, he heard the twittering, scurrying sounds of night creatures.

Grissom waited, working possible scenarios in his mind. A third person had been here and was probably the murderer. Neither woman had defensive wounds yet he did not think they had been asleep when attacked. Their clothes were intact, both wore their hiking boots, the backpacks were open, but animals might have scattered the contents. He had found no evidence of cooking.

Darkness seemed to arrive suddenly as the sun disappeared and shadows of trees melted into the darkness of the forest floor. Colors disappeared to become a gray darkness until a sliver of moon appeared. Little light penetrated the canopy of trees yet Grissom could see. His eyes adjusted, picking out the white flags he had placed around the campsite. Several time he walked around; he had always found it difficult to do nothing but tonight, he did what he could—waited—as darkness served as a cloak to prevent actions.

Nearly three hours passed before he saw approaching lights, taking a minute to realize the motions were too consistent to be flashlights, another minute before he heard the low whine of slow moving vehicles—several from the number of lights he counted. He watched as lights appeared and disappeared among the trees as the vehicles traveled a switch back route descending to a small creek before taking a similar path to where he waited. John's GPS had guided them back to this spot.

Gradually, shadows became people as he attempted to count riders and drivers in flashes of light—two or three people in each off-road vehicle; two vehicles pulled small trailers which added to the slow progress. John had not only called the sheriff, he had brought the posse. Before wheels stopped, people were climbing out, playing flashlights over the ground. Voices asking questions, introductions being made, quickly as work began. He heard a woman's voice, familiar but out of context. He searched the faces, only glimpses as flashlights were pointed everywhere else until he saw who walked around one of the vehicles—he would recognize those legs anywhere.

"Sara? Sara? What are you doing here?" He could not believe it was his wife standing in front of him, a wide grin on her face, wearing a warm jacket, a cap, looking very much as she had looked hundreds of times on crime scenes in a far-away place.

She laughed; John joined her along with a young man wearing the uniform of the forest service.

"Surprise!" She handed him a flashlight. "I didn't want to miss this." She backed a few steps away, looked at his wet jacket and pants, removed a small backpack from her shoulders and passed it to him. "I brought dry clothes."

"How? The kids, where are they?" He was confused and a dozen people were hovering around him with folded tents, cameras, and other equipment, appearing to wait for his directions.

She held a hand toward the young man. "Gil, meet Mark, Pearlie May's nephew. He's law enforcement for the national forest, so when John called, she knew who would get the next call. She's with the kids; I came with Mark, and by the time he had loaded the ATV and his equipment, Pearlie May had packed food, I packed dry clothes. He picked me up and we met these guys at the gate."

Grissom shook hands with Mark. He had heard a fast version, knowing there was more to hear but there was also a crime scene to work. He explained his markers, easily seen with flashlights, and he noticed Sara's amused face as he removed his jacket and pulled on a sweatshirt. Several battery powered spotlights illuminated the area, but flashlights were needed outside the circle of light. The knife was recovered and placed in an evidence bag.

Grissom realized the group was a mixed agency gathering—forest service, park service, local sheriff's deputies, and a state criminal investigator. Grissom noticed they worked well together, at ease with each other; no one seemed territorial as items were collected, photographs taken, the bodies prepared to be moved.

One man spread a detailed map across an ATV and marked the area; they were much closer to the area's mountain trail than either John or Grissom had realized. The forest service ranger explained that hikers often camped along the trail, and many, like these two, would find isolated places to spend several days. He would find out if the victims had registered as overnight hikers.

The sheriff's deputy found names and addresses from identification in the packs, both addresses from a nearby city. By the time the bodies were wrapped and tied to the back platforms of two vehicles, evidence bags stored in travel boxes, trailers repacked, and tents taken down, it was the darkest time of night, or early morning. John, Mark, Grissom and Sara walked back to the body farm instead of crowding into the loaded ATVs. Each carried a flashlight as they made their way in a direct path instead of the twisting trail of the vehicles.

Conversation between the four was about murder—because they knew this was a double murder. Mark's knowledge of local history explained the inter-agency work at the crime scene.

"We don't have much crime up here, certainly not murder. But when it occurs, everyone comes out. Some of these trails go from state park to national park to forest service lands and if we don't cooperate, we never solve anything."

"Do you think this one will be solved?" Sara asked. She had come because of Grissom, unsure of what role he would take, if he would leave as soon as others arrived. She should have known better. When she arrived, the sheriff's deputy already knew a knowledgeable forensic entomologist was on the scene and had every intention of using the experience and knowledge of Dr. Grissom. A few words from Mark, who had general knowledge of Sara's background from his aunt, meant she had been included, handed a flashlight and gloves with the presumption that she would work beside her husband. So she did.

"Yeah, probably. We'll put out flyers, check names of hikers—if they registered at the trailhead. Maybe a third person came with them. Maybe other hikers will remember this pair. Something was taken away—certainly blood on clothing. If the knife belonged to the women, it won't be much help, but my bet—it belongs to who used it. It didn't come from Wal Mart, so that helps."

By the time the four arrived at the body farm, retrieved the university truck, locked gates, and drove to the spot where trucks and trailers waited for the others, the sky had lightened to a pale gray. Somewhere far to the east, the sun was up and the clouds that had covered the sky had moved on.

Sara drove the truck, complaining as she tried to remember floor gear shifts. This had to be the last truck on earth with a stick in the floor, she said as she pushed it into third gear. Grissom grunted and within minutes she heard his snore. Even her jerking shifting of gears did not wake him until she parked the truck behind the biology building.

She woke him with a hand on his thigh. "Time to wake up, Rip," alluding to Rip Van Winkle's sleep of twenty years, a new favorite story of Eli.

His hand fastened around hers so quickly she knew he had been awake. "Let's just stay here and make out," he whispered.

She laughed. "I'm not making out with anyone who smells of—of—recent decomp and sweat. Get moving," she pushed open the door of the truck. "If we get home soon, get showers, we might get a few hours of sleep before the tribe wakes."

They walked home, no one stirring at this hour on campus. "Nothing more peaceful than a college campus without students," commented Grissom.

"Shakespeare?"

He chuckled, "No, someone else, I believe, maybe Faulkner." He wrapped an arm around his wife as they walked home, entering through the back door to a quiet and sleeping household.

"Let's shower downstairs," he suggested. "Keep things quiet upstairs and maybe keep everyone asleep."

Sara nodded. He often used the shower when coming from the body farm. The kids, even Pearlie May, would wrinkle noses if he walked through the house wearing his smelly clothes. This morning, before dawn arrived, he was the one to remove her clothes, not because of objectionable odors, but because of desire.

Sara responded in kind, smiling as his hands slid over her wet body, finding those tender, intimate areas of her neck, along her spine, where her breast rose from her chest. His lips followed his fingers as he circled each nipple, his fingers drawing light circles on one as his mouth and tongue gently touched the other. Gently, with infinitesimal attention paid to certain areas along her torso, he moved downward, pressing her against the tiles of the shower, until he reached that area of mystery to all men, where for thousands of years men had entered to find passion, desire, fulfillment of manhood.

When he had driven his wife to that crazed edge of excitement, just before she fell, or leaped, into the whirlpool of female organism, he stood. Her legs wrapped around his thighs as he slipped inside her. For a full minute, they were united, man and woman, giver and receiver, as she buried her head against his neck while waves of involuntary muscles moved within her. He gently began a slow rhythmic force as the shower rained on his shoulders and he felt her warm wet fluid flood against his groin.

Sara had not been idle, yet she let him lead with lovemaking like this. They did not often have moments of spontaneous sex in unexpected places. She loved his gentle use of force—his strength as he pulled her against his thighs and filled her, holding her as she crashed into organism before he completed his desire—controlling his own passion as he allowed her to consume, incinerate, exhaust every muscle in her body.

They were both limp, leaning against the shower wall; Sara had dropped one leg for support as Grissom continued to nuzzle her neck. She was depleted and drained of energy yet the contented, satisfied look on her husband's face invigorated her. She knew he was exhausted but happy.

"You are my life, Sara."

She smiled, "We need to sleep, dear."

"Thanks for coming out—I was totally surprised to see you."

He had turned the water off and the sudden change in temperature caused her to shiver. He reached for a towel.

"I actually came out thinking I would ride back with you. I didn't really think we would work." She stressed the word "work". She let him wrap the towel around her. Her hands went to his face, caressing, cradling his face. "I love you, Gil Grissom," She smiled before she kissed him.

He reached for a second towel. "Let's get to bed before everyone wakes up."

Putting her finger to her lips for quiet, they left the bathroom, tip-toeing up the stairs, checked on children, and heard the soft whistle snoring of Pearlie May who was sleeping in a spare bedroom, the door open, a light left on. Sara closed their door and crawled into bed snuggling against Grissom. She wanted all of him for a little longer.

_A/N: Enjoy! Thanks for reviews! _


	8. Chapter 8

**A Few Days Continued, Time in the Triangle Chapter 8**

…Grissom made three trips back to California in three months. He returned with photographs showing a torn out kitchen, an opening in a wall, more destruction than construction, Sara thought. But Grissom seemed delighted with progress after each visit. His fourth trip, wedged between fall festivals and Halloween, he took no photographs. The building had begun; the roof had been removed from the porch and this was his secret. Upstairs, Sara would have her own space, an office above the porch and the house looked as if it had exploded. It would be better, and keep his surprise, if she did not see what was being done.

His bees and the dog were fine; the neighbors and Lilly anxiously waited for the family to return. They wanted to hear details of daily lives of the children and Grissom provided entertainment—Eli's piano playing, the girls' gymnastics antics, and Will's fast growth.

"Has Sara cut his hair?" Lilly asked.

Grissom laughed, shaking his head. "She hasn't." His hands showed how long the baby's hair was, adding "He got a double dose of curly hair—it would be twelve inches long if straight, but just curls all over his head. I know she hates to cut it off, but the time is coming."

He stayed busy for three days, leaving late in the day on an east bound flight.

…Sara watched as her girls somersaulted and hung upside down on a trapeze bar in the back yard. The student, who had the patience of Job, demonstrated then helped each child with certain positions. More giggling than gymnastics, Sara thought. All her anxiety and worry had come to naught; the researcher group had made her feel welcome, her contributions to their work was respected, Grissom loved what he was doing with insects, and her kids—they were happy—laughing, learning, having a very positive experience. Bizzy was certain she was already enrolled in college. Eli knew he was going to be a great pianist, and Ava, Annie and Eli just enjoyed everything.

"They love doing all that flipping around," Pearlie May said as she joined Sara at the window. "Keeps them flexible." She laughed; her body shaking with that jovial sound Sara had heard first on the back porch. "I could use me some flexible."

Sara could not help but snicker as she envisaged Pearlie May's body going through the flips and turns of a gymnast.

In that instant—less time than one could imagine—one of the twins, Ava, let go of the ropes of the trapeze, flipping backward as she had done a hundred times before, but today, some quirk of fate interrupted her turn. Her foot or leg caught in a twist. The student heard a sound and turned to see Ava's fall.

From the window, Sara and Pearlie May heard nothing, seeing a simple tumble, but something about the fall was unusual—both women moved to the door.

She did not cry; later, Sara would realize the lack of tears puzzled her. By the time she and Pearlie May reached Ava, she was sitting up, appearing confused and bewildered, and extremely pale.

The student was examining the child, asking if she was okay, getting a wobbly nod of her head.

Pearlie May said, "That child turned gray, Miss Sara. You sure she's okay?"

Sara was running hands over her daughter, asking if anything hurt, getting repeated "no, I'm fine" as an answer. But when Ava tried to stand, tears came to her eyes.

"Does you foot hurt?" Sara asked.

"I can't walk, Mommy. My leg hurts."

Sara picked her up and carried her inside, followed by Pearlie May holding Will, Annie who started crying because her sister was crying, Bizzy, Eli, and the college student. A flurry of activity followed as with any accident. Pearlie May got snacks and drinks for everyone; Sara examined her daughter's leg—no outward sign of fracture. Ava wiggled her toes and stretched her arms, followed directions, but would not put weight on her leg.

The college student left after a while, assured there was no fault—a simple fall, probably a bruise would appear, and be forgotten by tomorrow. Ava got special attention and because she continued to refuse to stand, crying out in pain each time she tried, remained on the old wicker chase lounge in the sunroom. She refused all attempts to get her to walk—a stubborn refusal that perplexed Sara. She watched from the kitchen as Annie brought a toy to the chair and Ava's response was half-hearted as her sister tried to get her to play.

Pearlie May said, "You should take her to the emergency room—I'll stay. Something's not right with her."

Sara's eyes shone with worry. "I hate to ask you to do that. But you're right." She fidgeted with her ring. "It doesn't look broken, but she's in pain."

"Take her—you won't sleep until you know." Pearlie May waved both hands. "Go, we'll be just fine. I'll fix eggs and grits for supper—dinner."

…Sara watched as Ava was placed on the table for an x-ray. They had not had to wait long as emergency room visits go; an orthopedic doctor had just finished with a high school boy's fractured leg. He had felt Ava's leg, gotten her to laugh with a funny story, told Sara that femur fractures were not usual, but uncommon in young children, and an x-ray would tell them what they needed to know. Ava's attention was on the technicians who surrounded her as the physician explained simply that he was going to take a photograph of her bones and she must be very still. Sara held her hand and shortly both were back, waiting again for the doctor to return.

"Can I walk now?" Ava asked as she and Sara waited. "Did the machine fix my leg?"

"We have to wait to see what the doctor says."

"Is he a doctor like Daddy?"

Sara laughed. The kids had heard Grissom called "Doctor" for the first time at the university and it had puzzled them at first until he had explained he read books; he didn't take care of patients.

"This one takes care of patients and you are one of his patients."

Sara heard the noise of people arriving, a cart rolling along the corridor. Her first thought was "this isn't good" before the doctor and three others entered the room. Their faces did not have to give a diagnosis; she knew. The physician explained the spiral fracture to Sara while one of the young men drew cartoons for Ava.

"We can do this two ways. Children's bones grow very quickly. Right now, her leg is swollen. My recommendation is to wrap her leg with a plaster cast, immobilize the entire leg, down to her foot. Keep her off her feet for three or four days, x-ray again, and go from there.

"If the bone is healing, we can continue with the cast. If not, we can go to a spica cast, that's one from above the hip down. But a patient this young, if a thigh high cast will work, it saves a lot of pain and discomfort over six weeks. Not to mention weight and work on the parents."

Sara nodded.

"We can wrap the leg tonight—it's up to you if you want us to admit her, we can. You won't get any sleep regardless of where you are—she's going to be uncomfortable wherever she is."

Sara looked at her daughter who was giggling with the young man who was drawing figures on yellow paper. "I'll take her home tonight."

It took another two hours—Ava vomited, twice, as her leg was wrapped with plaster. The leg in the cast was x-rayed again; a physical therapist came and made an appointment for using crutches, explaining to Ava that she could not walk until she got crutches. Someone brought a large shirt for her to wear home. The cartoon drawing guy came back in with colored markers and asked if he could draw on the cast. Final discharge instructions were being given to Sara as he finished drawing five small kittens across Ava's foot.

Ava seemed to forget her broken leg when rolled out in a wheelchair, and expressed her disappointment with not getting her own rolling chair. A nurse found a box to use in the van to keep the leg propped and level with the seat.

Sara had called home; Pearlie May said, "My sister is here and everyone's fine. Dr. Grissom called from Atlanta saying his plane was delayed but I didn't tell him anything else. Can't do nothing sittin' down there in the airport but worry."

The big house in the center of the college campus was almost dark when she arrived. Lights were on in the kitchen and in the den, meaning Sara's other children were asleep. Ava had gone to sleep in the van. Pearlie May and her sister, Ruby, were true jewels—as good to the Grissom children as the neighbors they had at home. The two women, who had worked for the university for decades, met her at the back door.

"Look at this baby," Pearlie May said. "Oh, goodness," she whispered as Sara let her take the child. The cast weight and size made for a difficult and awkward transfer, but Ava barely moved. "We'll put her on the sofa—maybe she can sleep in there." Sara was surprised with the ease the big woman maneuvered while holding the sleeping child with one leg encased in hard plaster.

Ruby appeared with sheets and a couple of pillows making a bed, pulling a chair for Sara who suddenly realized it was nearly midnight and exhaustion oozed from every pore as she collapsed into the chair.

_A/N: Enjoy! _


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: Long chapter to last you for several days! Enjoy! Review!_

**A Few Days Continued, Time in the Triangle Chapter 9**

…Weather—perfectly clear sky on departure but across the continent, a brewing storm rose out of the gulf and swirled itself northward, tightening and turning until it reached the greater metro area of Atlanta. As this storm with no name other than "a wet system", slowed and relieved itself of moisture streaming in a long narrow tail from warm water, lightening came in sheets.

Grissom paced below the television screen along with countless others whose journey had been disrupted by this churning blob or orange and red. He always thought the radar colors for rain had inappropriately stolen colors of the sun.

In what appeared to be a break in weather, his flight was called, and forty passengers were hustled onto the regional jet, silently congratulating themselves as among the lucky ones. An hour later, they realized luck had played a twisted trick. Grissom counted twelve planes from his porthole window as lightening illuminated the runway. He was certain there were many more in this lineup of metal tubes.

He checked his phone again, getting the same dark screen from a dead battery. Somewhere in his checked bag was the recharging cord he had forgotten to use. Finally, weather cooperated, wheels lifted, and before he could settle into sleep, he heard the sounds of the crew making preparations for landing.

…Before the cab stopped, he was handing money to the driver. His eyes, some gut instinct told him something was wrong, very wrong. He had seen the lights from a block away—the wrong lights blazing in a house that should be asleep. Upstairs windows were dark; downstairs, he could see the kitchen, dining room, and sunroom windows were glowing yellow. By the time he got out of the car, he could see one large woman moving around in the kitchen, but it wasn't Pearlie May yet her white Ford was parked next to their van. His tired eyes were playing tricks, he thought; Pearlie May was in the kitchen.

The door clicked open and Grissom came face to face with—he stopped his progress—trying to remember the name of this stranger he should know.

The woman must have seen the cab. "Dr. Grissom," she said, "they are in the den." She carried a tray that he dodged as he hurried, knowing something was wrong.

He stopped in the doorway trying to gather thoughts, attempting to interpret—Pearlie May was holding Will and both appeared to be asleep. Sara—Sara—was curled on the floor, her head on the sofa, an arm draped around a white wrapped form. His mind could not process what he was seeing; some instinctive alarm bell was clanging inside his head.

His mind formed the one word he could always say, "Sara." Before he could take steps to her side, before he could touch her shoulder, before he could see who was lying on the sofa, her head came up and he saw her dark, weary eyes open.

"Oh, Gil," she whispered as she attempted to stand. He saw the curls of one of the twins—a thought so terrible that he could not continue it flashed through his brain. He was beside the couch, kneeling, touching, holding his wife with a grip that would leave bruises. She leaned against him.

"Oh, Gil, her leg is broken, the femur." Sara's hand moved the white sheet.

As quickly as the thought of indescribable tragedy had flooded his mind, relief entered. A broken leg—a cast—he could live. Release of his thoughts occurred so quickly, so spontaneously, his grasp turned into an embrace, one that hid his own face and the unspeakable image that had come into his thoughts.

"You're okay? She's okay?" He asked his questions while holding Sara so tightly he knew she could not answer, instead feeling the brush of her hair as she nodded. He released her.

Sara said, "She'll sleep for a while, but wakes up when she tries to move. Doesn't want anyone else to hold her. Pearlie May and Ruby have stayed," she indicated the sleeping woman in the chair.

Ruby, of course, he thought. He should have remembered.

As if by formal introduction, Ruby appeared with a tray filled with cups, the makings of tea, some kind of sandwiches. She sat the tray on the table saying "I thought you might want some food."

Sara had gotten up, leaving Grissom to inspect the sleeping child. He brushed curls away from Ava's face. He smiled and kissed her forehead. The twins' appearance of Raphael's cherubs, the two used on many Christmas cards from the Sistine Madonna painting, did not reflect actual life. Their plump arms and legs, the curly hair, even the rolled eyes, of those little angels belied their rambunctious energy. Ava would be fine; she would quickly learn a broken leg meant attention and she would be the finest player at center stage.

He had finished his own examination, noticing the kittens drawn across the top of the cast over her foot. Sara passed him a steaming cup of tea.

"She was on the trapeze and fell—I think she twisted her leg. Holly was here and they were having a good time practicing gymnastics. Poor baby, she didn't even cry—not then. It didn't look broken but she wouldn't stand, wouldn't play." Rapidly, Sara told him the story, sitting on the floor, both eating sandwiches and drinking tea.

"I'm sorry," he said in a whisper, leaning over to kiss her. "I'm sorry it happened, sorry I wasn't here to help."

Pearlie May's snoring woke her with a jerk. She yawned, patted Will, before noticing the others sitting on the floor. "I must have dozed off."

Grissom had stretched his legs and leaned against the sofa. "Why don't you and Ruby go home—or sleep upstairs. I can stay up with Ava. You, too, Sara. Saturday morning will be here very soon." He nodded towards Will. "And there are three others who will be up."

Ruby and Pearlie May decided to drive home, Pearlie May promising to return before noon. "I'll get lunch," she promised. She handed the baby to Sara. "You need to sleep."

Grissom stayed awake, sitting beside his daughter. When Ava woke, crying because her leg hurt, until she saw her father and forgot her pain as she related her version of her first emergency room visit. A funny man drawing cartoons, a big machine taking pictures of her bones, she threw up—twice—were highlights of her story.

Her eyes grew wide as she explained her leg injury and the cast. "It didn't break off, Daddy. It broke'd inside and made me so I wouldn't walk." She took a bite of an offered cookie. "Daddy, how will I go to school? I have to walk with Mommy and Annie."

By now, Grissom was on the sofa with her, holding her close with the cast-enclosed leg supported on his leg. "We'll think of something, sweetheart."

"I'm not a baby. I'm not riding in Will's stroller."

He chuckled. "We will get you there—I will carry you all the way and stay with you all day if you want."

She giggled. "Daddy, the chairs are too small for you!" She wiggled closer. "Will you take me to the bathroom?" She whispered her need.

Grissom figured out how to maneuver a little girl, an inflexible cast, her nightgown, and her requirement for the bathroom. His knees ached as he knelt, holding her with one hand, her leg with the other, balancing on a foot and one knee, but she was telling him how the man drew kittens on her cast. He laughed with her.

Returning to the sofa, he read a story to her as they shifted, and snuggled, and tried to find a comfortable way to rest before both dozed.

Sometime later, his ears heard the padding of feet, the hushed whispers of voices before he cracked an eye to sunlight coming between blinds that had not been closed. As soon as both eyes were open, he saw three faces standing within arms' reach. Ava continued to sleep, drool making a tiny wet spot on his shirt as she used his chest for a pillow.

"Hey," he said, sounding hoarse from lack of sleep. Three faces broke into smiles. He knew to move would mean waking the one who slept. "Have you seen Ava's leg?"

Three heads shook "no".

"She has a broken leg—the bone broke when she fell yesterday." He pulled the sheet away for them to see her cast. "See, she has a cast on her leg so it will grow back together."

Eli spoke first, "Can she walk now?"

"Not yet, she needs to rest for a few days. Then she gets crutches to use. We will have to help her."

"Can she play now?" This came from Annie, mumbled because a thumb was in her mouth.

"She can when she wakes up—but she can't walk yet." Several long seconds of quiet passed. "I'm happy to be home—I saw Hank and Lilly and Sister Deborah and everyone says they miss you." He noticed the squirming of feet and restless hands. His arm went out. "Give me a hug." The three crowded into the curve of his arm, jostling to be near him, giggles and whispers overpowering their quest to be quiet. Within minutes, Ava was awake, attempting to smile before realizing she was immobilized by the cast, tearing up for a few seconds until her brother and sisters made her the center of their attentions.

As with any change in daily routine, the family adjusted with minor disruptions. There were a few childhood squabbles as Ava discovered a newfound purpose—getting her sisters to do things for her, the added attention of parents as they carried her from bed to bathroom to the table to the sofa. On her return to preschool, she got even more attention—other children crowding around her as she told about her leg and cast. Sara had folded a quilt into their wagon and pulled her to school for a few hours, staying with Ava. By the third day, Ava and her teachers were ready for her to stay as long as the other children.

The first complaints came on a day which corresponded to the day Ava got crutches. Everyone attempted to walk with a stiff leg using a child-size crutch. Eli soon discovered a gun, a ninja sword, a climbing pole could all be made from a crutch which brought the complaints from others of "not sharing" and wails from Ava as she was left alone.

It was also the afternoon that Grissom was alone with his five children that the clamor and racket became more than he could tolerate, and he was capable of closing out their noise most of the time. But today, he had insisted Sara return to the research lab and Pearlie May left early with dinner ready to be heated and children content. Within ten minutes play had turned into complaints and rising voices had turned into crying and pouting.

"Eli, give the crutch back to Ava," he instructed, looking over his glasses, trying to maintain a calm voice. Annie was already at his side, hiccupping between words as she tried to tell him that Eli was not sharing.

Bizzy, capable of seeing the coming upheaval, had retreated to a half-hidden spot under a potted plant. She had pulled Will in with her and the two were busy in their play of teaching new words to her brother.

Eli crossed arms and pouted but he returned the crutch. "Can I go outside?" He leaned against the desk where Grissom sat.

"Me too!" Annie forgot her pouting at the mention of outside.

Grissom's first response was to say "no". It had rained all day. Yet they had been in school and inside the house all day. Even thought the sunroom was large and open making an excellent dry play area, it wasn't outside.

"Not by yourself—we all have to go—boots and rain jackets," he instructed. Three children scrambled and ran up the stairs. "Bring things for Ava and Will," he called after the disappearing trio.

Faster than things were usually done, four children were in front of him in some state of dress for wet weather leaving Ava struggling with crutches and putting on a boot.

His hand passed over his face, thinking, "Wait, sweetheart," he said, "We have to cover your cast."

Bizzy said, "Mom used a plastic bag."

Grissom pulled a plastic trash bag from underneath the sink, cut a hole in one corner, and fit it to Ava's leg getting assistance from the others in a confused fire drill manner. He used duct tape to hold the bag in place. Finally, everyone had some kind of jacket, hat, boots or shoes that would shed water.

He laughed at the rag-tag group that followed him to the porch. Neither of Annie's boots matched, Bizzy had opted for sandals instead of rain boots. Eli was dressed in a bright yellow poncho that touched the ground until he tied it into "wings", Will wore hand-me-downs from two sisters and his brother—a green, yellow, and purple put-together outfit. Ava, in the wagon, was covered with another poncho with the white bag on her leg and a pink and purple boot on her foot.

In the drizzling rain, no one complained, no one quarreled, no cross words about sharing. When Eli, followed by Will, ran through huge puddles, Grissom didn't bother to stop them. The two girls followed. Grissom looked down at Ava sitting in the wagon, a look of disappointment on her face.

"Let's go," he said. She looked confused until he picked her up, wading into the water, to join the others.

Sara's walk home took less than ten minutes. In rain she could make it in less time. An arc of water caught her eye as she walked, head bent against the drizzle, around a large mostly empty parking lot. Her first thought was a fast bicyclist was riding through the lot until she heard the sound of voices. She raised her head, and as mothers over the world do, she recognized her own children—little splashes of color against a gray afternoon as they danced and played in the large shallow pool created in the parking lot.

In the middle of the pond was Grissom, dancing around with Ava—recognized by the stiff leg—his pants soaked, his head wet, because somehow his cap was being used as a pail for water as another sweep of water met the sky. Sara realized she had a lump in her throat, and she brushed her eyes with the back of her hand.

Her husband, the father of her children, had rarely found true, purposeless play as a child. They had spent hours talking about the lack of play in their own childhood and agreed their children would experience play for the sake of play. Like her, his isolation, by accident or design, had grown into a solitary live, inaccessible to others. Until they met, that is. Like a moth to a flame, he had once said of their relationship, but she was never sure who was the moth.

She stood watching, feeling the sprinkle of rain becoming tiny trickles down her back. After a few minutes, clouds seemed to darken and the light rain became heavier. She walked to the edge of the water and called out.

"Hey! Can I play?"

The first to turn was Will who made a clumsy turn in boots too big and promptly fell, got up laughing, stepped out of the boots and ran in sock covered feet to her. He did not care that she was dry or he was soaked. The others followed, looking like a pack of wet, orphaned puppies who had found warm shelter. Their actions would have been mistakes for those of long absence instead of one of a few hours—hugs, kisses, more hugging, until she was as wet as any one of them, and breathless, giggling, as they talked.

"We went for a walk!"

"Then we got wet."

"And Daddy got wet with us."

"This was fun!"

"Can we do it again?"

Grissom, trying to appear a little sheepish, carried Will as the three girls piled into the wagon. "We really did start out on a walk." Sara's smile turned to laughter as the soaked family walked home.

Before they opened the door, they could hear the telephone ringing. Grissom said to Bizzy, "Run and answer it, sweetheart." He and Sara stripped off wet jackets and shoes, found towels to wrap around wet bodies. "Bath time," he announced, "before dinner—everyone gets warm and dry."

The house telephone was an old fashioned one that hung on the wall in the kitchen. The cord would almost stretch to the back door and Bizzy's head appeared in the door. "It's Aunt Catherine, Mom. She wants to talk to you."

_A/N: Leaving with a cliff hanger, sort of--next chapter in 5-6 days. Thanks for reading!_


	10. Chapter 10

**A Few Days Continued, Time in the Triangle Chapter 10**

Sara looked puzzled. Catherine called at two times, Sunday afternoon or early morning as she drove home. Grissom shrugged but his eyes darkened.

After a minute of exchanges, Catherine asked if the timing was bad, if Grissom was at home.

"Who is it, Catherine?" Sara was blunt. She knew there was a purpose to the call—it had to involve Brass or Nick or Greg. Sara did not pray but silently hoped it was someone else, not her friends.

Catherine's answer of silence lasted several seconds. "It's Ellie—she was found yesterday."

Ellie Brass, Jim's only child, had been lost to him for years. Sara knew little from Jim about Ellie, but more from Grissom about this daughter who had run away from her parents for the promise of beaches and brightness, fame and fortune of the California coast. Except she had not found any of that; instead, she found drugs and prostitution, thugs and users, and try as he might, Brass had never been successful in rescuing her.

Sara knew a small fortune had been spent on Ellie—apartments, cars, rehab that did not work—but as her father, Jim did not give up. Not until today, that is.

Catherine provided details, of which there were few, except to speak of the anguish and heartbreak of their friend.

"I thought—I thought a call from Gil would mean a lot to Jim. He's pretty down about this. Her body—cremation and shipped back east to her mother. I don't think there will be any kind of service or memorial," Catherine explained.

She and Sara talked a while longer with the usual questions about others. Catherine was able to laugh about their play in the rain.

"I wish I could have seen Gil. He hasn't played enough in his life."

Later, in the quiet house, with children asleep, Sara said, "You should go. We'll be fine and Jim would appreciate you being there."

They were propped in their bed, both pretending to read while thinking of their friend. Grissom had talked to Brass on the phone, hearing the words of a parent as he tried to justify, more to himself than anyone else, the reason for the end of a child's life.

"I don't see how—there is so much to do here—I can't leave you and the kids, not with Ava, the extra work. I can't."

Sara rolled to wrap an arm around him, snuggling against him as his arm went around her. "Go, Gil. He needs a friend. Pearlie May will be here. Spend a few days with him." She worked the buttons of his shirt, slipping her hand against his chest. "It was sweet for you to take the kids out."

He responded to her touch, his book forgotten. He knew her desire for him had not diminished over the years, and tonight, as her hands moved, long fingers gently touched his skin as she pushed aside his shirt, he responded with a similar need.

Until she met Gil Grissom, Sara did not know what it meant to love or to be loved. She was afraid to love, to even say the word, until she found him. It had taken decades for her to admit it; her father was abusive. Her mother was distracted; Sara thought she remembered kindness. Many years later, old enough to know some things, she realized how the damage and destruction of one life could destroy another.

For years, her relationship with Grissom brought a level of emotions to her life as new, never experienced feelings often left her with more uncertainties than security, but she learned to love. When her life became so weighed down by events—a night under a car, a day in the desert, a knife in a woman's back, a child whose genius had turned to darkness—she broke. Physically, emotionally, she stepped or fell into a black void, leaving the one person who loved her as only he could, but his love was not enough to hold her then.

Now, she loved on so many levels and in so many ways. She loved her children—as a group, as individuals. She loved Grissom as the father of her children, as a soul mate, as a kindred spirit, as one who showed her love. Tonight, she loved him as a lover in an intimacy that startled her while it felt completely natural, part of the complex, passionate life they had built together.

She could feel his heart beating against her cheek, warmth rising. She raised her head and placed her lips on his, kissing slowly, tenderly until his lips parted, his tongue explored as his fingers did the same.

Years ago, they had crossed boundaries often found between casual lovers. Yet she continued to be surprised at his meticulous attention to detail in making love to her, leaving nothing to chance. He explored her body with the sensitivity of a new lover, a voyager discovering a new coastline. Grissom had never been a philandering man, or one who sought attention from all women. When he met Sara—smoldering dark eyes with flames of gold—something had waken a hidden desire in his brain, his heart, and his loins. He smiled at the memory. Irrevocably, he connected to Sara Sidle; forever, without doubt, with no reservation, and with certainty found once in a lifetime.

His fingers played along her belly, seeking, finding the feminine core of passion. His entire body hardened as he heard her gasp—that quiet intake of air as he moved within her. He smiled again. She always did that. He continued his gentle play as her body responded. Only when he felt the waves of tightened muscles, when he knew she was lost to conscious thought did he release his own passion. His hands slipped to her backside, holding her as rhythmic motions took over both bodies. And in the way of lovers, they entwined, feeling warm breaths against skin before exhaustion brought sleep.

Two days later, Grissom left to visit his friend. Three days later, he called Sara.

"I'm coming home," he said.

As soon as Sara answered, "So soon?"

He said, "Jim is coming with me."

Grissom had found his friend in sorrow, pretending he did not feel the pain of his lost child. Grissom knew the girl Brass called "daughter" shared no common genes with him. Grissom also knew this did not diminish the love a parent had for a child.

By the second night, Grissom asked, or told, his friend to pack a bag. There was too much alcohol, too little food as one man talked and the other listened. Grissom's headache was enough for him to know he needed to go home.

"Come with me, Jim."

"Naw, too much work to do."

"Let someone else do the work. Sara would love to have you. We've got this huge house, empty bedrooms, five kids, one on crutches, one playing the piano. The leaves are turning. And if that's not enough, you have to meet Pearlie May and her fried chicken."

Brass chuckled. "Sara's letting you eat chicken now?"

Grissom laughed. "No, but Pearlie May cooks it at her house and packs me a lunch." The two men shared genuine laughter.

For the first time in years, Brass left Vegas, left ties, suits, and open cases and flew east. He found himself in a picture-postcard university town just as the orange, golds and browns of fall reached peak colors. Just as children noticed a change in temperatures, as college students became more interested in ballgames than exams. He had been with the dead and dying in a city that never sleeps for too long, he decided.

The Grissom children were initially shy around him as they swarmed their father—Brass still smiled at the sight of Grissom being a dad—and when Sara hugged him, their shyness began to evaporate. By the time they reached the house, he had heard about school, the broken leg, Halloween costumes, and the room ready for his visit. That was only the beginning.

Brass became a new audience of one for giggles and secrets, for piano practice and gymnastic tumbling, for walks with one on crutches as the others ran ahead, for one who wanted to read, or one who desired a comfortable lap to share a snack.

Sara had even asked Pearlie May to fry chicken.

"That's supposed to be a secret, Miss Sara," Pearlie May said.

Sara laughed, "You two—I can taste it on his lips!"

Pearlie May shook her head and laughed. She had never cooked for vegetarians but she had learned. Lots of cheese and milk, beans and peanut butter—similar to what she had eaten as a child—filled the table. And the Grissom children were not picky eaters; little things sat at her table and ate, not a complainer in the bunch.

"Now, I wasn't going behind your back."

"I know. I also know who eats bacon anytime he can."

Eli and Will were sitting at the table and Eli snickered, quickly ducking his head. He loved bacon, and while his mom never ate it and never cooked it at home, she did not forbid it. So, anytime he and his dad ate in restaurants, they ordered bacon.

For six days, Brass did not think of death, victims, crime, or of the death of his daughter. He realized he could laugh with old friends, seeing them in a different life. He laughed and played with children, learning quickly what Bizzy and her parents kept quiet. The child was a genius with words, with math, working complex problems more accurately than most tenth graders. He also knew why Sara did not want her child labeled.

He fed Will while sitting in the kitchen as Pearlie May prepared lunch.

"You've known them a long time, Mr. Brass?" She asked.

"Yeah," he said. "Long time—since Sara came to Las Vegas to work."

"These are good kids," she nodded at Will but Brass knew she was including all of them.

Brass leaned toward Will with a spoonful of cereal. The baby shook his head, his blonde curls bouncing around his head. "We've got to get this boy a haircut so he looks like a boy!"

Pearlie May laughed, her entire body shaking. "Now, Mr. Brass, you gonna break Miss Sara's heart saying that. That's her baby you talking about—he's still a baby—he don't need a crew cut or to be wearing jeans yet. We got Eli." When she said Eli's name she turned from the stove.

"You say you been knowing them a long time?" Brass nodded, seeing curiosity in the broad smiling face, which grew serious for a moment. "Eli—I know he's adopted and his father was their friend." She sat beside Brass, taking the spoon from him and getting a few more bites of cereal to Will. "I'm curious—where's his mother—the woman who gave birth to him?"

Brass, who would never admit his love of talking about others, drank his coffee, and related the story of Warrick Brown, his wife, Tina, and how Eli became a Grissom. Pearlie May clicked her tongue, shook her head, amazed at the reckless abandon with which some women treated their children.

_A/N: Had to get a little of Brass in this one! Enjoy! The story continues later this week----Thanks!_


	11. Chapter 11

**A Few Days Continued, Time in the Triangle Chapter 11**

Halloween, the grand holiday for children regardless of age, arrived before Jim left for Vegas. He was having genuine fun for the first time in years. He ate good food prepared by Pearlie May, who loved having another man eat her meals. He went with Grissom to the body farm and stomped around among dead bodies, human and other animals, until they sat in the back of the truck and ate lunch. Then Jim took a two hour nap while Grissom finished his notes. He walked to school with two children and listened to them as they chattered about what they were learning. He walked to preschool with Ava and Annie and heard about play time and story time.

When everyone was in the house, he knew it was the best time he had spent in years. There was always the noise of children, talking, playing, running, and, to his ears, very little squabbling and disagreements. Pearlie May talked to whoever entered the kitchen; she was a woman with remarkable talents. Grissom complained in a good natured way after making half-a-dozen trips up the stairs or every morning when it was time for school. And Sara—she had amazed Brass for years as a CSI—remained the calm ring-master of this circus.

They had walked with the twins to preschool one morning when Sara asked if he had ever known twins.

"Not well—a couple of cousins, younger than me."

"It is a different relationship from other siblings," she said. "Ava and Annie are little more than babies yet they are closer, more protective of each other, than the others. I know," she laughed, "I know, they can almost read each other's mind. Even when they fight—and they do—they feel so guilty afterwards. When one is happy, the other is happy. When Ava broke her leg—it was like it happened to Annie! She moped, cried at preschool until I let her stay at home and all was well as long as they are together. I worry about what's to come."

Brass agreed. "I remember these cousins—they live next door to each other now—joined the army when they were eighteen. It was a miserable few years until they could get out and after that, I doubt if they have been apart more than three or four days in years."

Halloween brought even more excitement and anticipation than usual. Instead of door-to-door trick 'r treating, the university sponsored a carnival with pony rides, face painting, balloons, cake walks, a haunted house, a petting zoo, and a dozen other activities—all free for children in costumes. Hundreds of children came every year and hundreds of college students volunteered. It all occurred less than three blocks from the house and the Grissom children watched as huge white tents were erected. A temporary fence was put in place for ponies and petting animals. Flags and banners went up over several days and the enthusiasm for whatever was going to happen was enough to disrupt any household, especially one with five children.

Grissom's idea of everyone dressing as bugs was overruled almost immediately. Bizzy would go with whatever her dad wanted, but his two other daughters were not going to be bugs.

"Daddy, I want to be a fairy princess," Annie announced. "Not a bug!" Her blue eyes sparkled with excitement. She always wanted to be a fairy and her wings had been left in California. Annie was hoping for new wings with glitter and gold trim.

"You could be a butterfly," Grissom suggested. He received a shake of her head.

Eli was next to rebel. "I want to be Luke Skywalker," and he ran around the room with an imaginary light saber swinging at anything or anyone that moved. He had seen the movie and Luke and Hans Solo were his current heroes of choice. "Please," he begged. "I don't want to be a bug and if Annie can be a fairy, then I want to be Luke."

Grissom knew his idea was a lost cause, gave up, and spent the afternoon with four children and Jim picking out selections from the local big box store. They purchased a pink fairy costume with gold trim, a witch's dress and pointed hat, a blue silky princess dress—the difference in fairy princess and a regular princess appeared to be the wings, and several pieces for Luke Skywalker including a plastic saber. Will, everyone decided, could go as a frog and ride in the wagon with Ava.

Three adults and five excited children left the house at twilight for the carnival, already hearing music as they approached. The costumed children looked like brightly colored flowers in a mixed bouquet as they bounced and tumbled out the front door holding hands of parents and Brass.

"It's like holding crickets," Grissom said as Eli pulled his hand to hurry them along.

Sara had been surprised at how quickly her kids had gotten into Halloween celebrations. She kept them out of stores where costumes and candy had been displayed; she did not pretend to promote door-to-door candy madness. But this year, a casual announcement at school, the placement of posters on every post on campus had stirred and fired imaginations in Eli and Bizzy which was quickly caught by Annie and Ava. All of them instantly understood that Halloween meant a big party.

By the time they stood in line for pony rides even Will knew that tonight was special as he let a stranger lift him to the back of a little brown horse. Ava's cast did not present a problem as a young student gently placed her in the saddle and walked the trail with her, holding her leg as she smiled and waved as she passed her parents.

"I think we may have some real cowboys and cowgirls—wait until I tell Nick about this!" Jim said as he chuckled at the sight of three curly blonde children riding the docile creatures. Eli and Bizzy quickly found friends who begged to have them join their families in something called a cake walk.

"What on earth is a cake walk?" Grissom asked one parent. The game was explained and the group split, agreeing to meet later in the food tent.

After pony rides, they found balloon animals, and plastic ducks to pluck from a pool of water winning a prize with each numbered duck. Face painting took some time as each girl wanted the exact same things painted on each cheek. The petting zoo—mostly young farm animals—was next and the lambs, the goats, and baby chicks had to be touched before moving on to a huge inflated slide.

Sara took Annie and Will up the stairs and came down with Will sitting between her legs. Ava wanted to cry as she watched her little brother and her sister slide down the ramp, jumping up to go again. Her chin trembled as she fought back tears.

Grissom lifted her from the wagon. "Hey, sweetheart, don't cry. When the cast comes off, we'll find another slide."

She nodded, trying hard not to be a cry-baby as she watched the fun.

Suddenly, a girl, a college student whose job was to monitor the slide, appeared in front of Grissom. "Go ahead, take her up." She motioned to the steps. "I'll hold everyone back until you get her down."

Grissom pointed to himself, "Me?"

The girl laughed. "Yeah, you—you're her dad, right? Just carry her up the steps and let her sit on your lap as you slide. You're feet will stop you at the bottom!"

And that's how Jim Brass had another story to tell back in Vegas—seeing Gil Grissom on an inflated slide, not once, but three times, as his daughter with her leg in a cast screamed with delight as the two glided to a stop. He would remember the image for years as he thought of how life changes people.

…Weeks of fall passed into early winter. When Ava's cast was removed, she continued to walk with a stiff leg for several days, and she refused to wear jeans that had been shelved for weeks.

"Boys wear jeans," she stated as Sara brought out long pants for her to wear to preschool.

Sara's hands rested on her hips. Eli and Bizzy were two easy going, agreeable, compliant children. Ava and Annie—she hated to label her children—but there was a stubborn gene, an obstinate little mind determined to do what it wanted to do and the twins got a double dose. Their looks belied this characteristic—big eyes, beautiful blonde curls, and the smile of their father gave them a charm that adults found hard to resist.

"Ava, I wear jeans," Sara said in an attempt to dissuade Ava's words.

Ava wiggled off the bed, running to the closet to fetch a favorite summer dress. "You're Mommy. I want to wear a dress." She held the garment in front of her.

Annie was beside her sister in seconds. "Me, too!"

Sara glanced at Bizzy, who had remained in bed and rolled her eyes before going back to her book. Of course, Sara thought, as two pairs of identical blue eyes looked up at her, some things were not worth an argument.

"Wear the dresses," she said as she refolded jeans she had packed in California. "And sweaters. It's cool weather."

The two little girls immediately hugged their mother, receiving a one-arm-pick-up and transport, both giggling as they settled into bed. Sara covered both, turning to her oldest daughter.

"You are set?" She asked, the nightly ritual of selecting clothes for the next day complete for the twins.

Bizzy nodded. Her jeans and shirt already lay across a chair. She was more like her mother with each day.

"Ten minutes, and lights out. Okay?"

Grissom had put Eli and Will to bed; his task made easy by both. Eli wore jeans every day and Will was dressed by Sara or Pearlie May. A short story had been read, and Grissom was downstairs before the girls were finished with baths. He stretched on the chaise longue—French for a long chair, if he remembered correctly.

This room, sunroom turned play room, and this particular chair had become favorites with all of them. He had secretly changed a few things on the remodeling that was occurring on their house. He had also ordered two similar chairs. He smiled as he settled against the cushions. Sara was going to have one big surprise—in a good way when they returned home. He had seen photographs of a new bathroom, a new office, and a new porch. He heard laughter from upstairs. They had certainly spread out in this borrowed house and he hoped it continued when they returned home…

_A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Enjoy!_


	12. Chapter 12

**A Few Days Continued, Time in the Triangle Chapter 12**

He remained in the chair listening to the voices floating from the bedroom upstairs. He chuckled quietly as he knew the conversation taking place. Annie and Ava were as headstrong about certain things as Bizzy was compliant—he knew Sara was trying to get them to wear long pants and he knew she wouldn't succeed.

As he listened he heard footsteps and, knowing who was coming, looking for him, anticipation rose in his chest—the strange, euphoric energy that made him unable to sleep, unable to read—until he could be with her. In the quiet house, he heard her enter the sunroom and raised his arm. Sara walked around the chair and sat opposite him; he waved his hand.

"Over here, with me." He motioned and moved to create a wedge of space beside him.

Sara smiled—that sweet seductive sexy smile he had loved for years.

She saw the light blaze in the blue of his eyes as he reached out, pulling her to him. She closed her eyes as she nestled beside him. "I think we need to pack this chair with our things," she whispered.

Grissom grunted. "No, I want a bigger one. This one gets crowded."

Sara's lips touched the hollow of his throat, tasting his flesh, the heat. Her fingers unfastened buttons and she slipped her hand around his chest. He leaned to kiss her, tasting faintly of wine.

"Bed," he said as he raised his head. Sara giggled, remembering a night they had made love in this chair to wake at sun rise. Both spent the day suppressing smiles at the thought of Pearlie May's early arrival just minutes after they had closed their bedroom door.

Grissom led Sara upstairs, removing his shirt before undressing her, leaving clothes in a puddle. Sitting on the bed, he pulled her into arms, burying his face against her abdomen, breathing deeply.

"You are beautiful."

For years, Sara would offer denial, saying "No, no, I'm not," but she had stopped saying those words. Her hands combed through his hair, slid along his shoulders and back. She pushed him onto the bed, moving with him, feeling the smoothness of his chest against her face.

"I've loved you forever, Sara," he told her, and the way he said it—piercing blue eyes focused on her face, his forehead wrinkled with serious purpose—caused her to shiver. Gently, he rolled both of them over, kissing her in soft places along her neck, her breasts, her belly, her thighs. His hand touched her jaw, circled her ear, lightly traced her lips.

Within seconds, Sara's senses amplified every movement around her—the rustle of sheets, the sounds of breathing, the pulsing of heart beats, and the whispered words of her husband. As always, their actions brought thoughts of waves and tides, sometimes the crashing of water in a stormy sea, but more often, as tonight, it was the gentle pull of a full moon on the ocean, reliable, dependable, and breathtaking in its simplicity yet built beaches, brought life, and held untold mysteries in its depth. They made love as wind blew leaves against the windows of their bedroom blowing the last vestige of summer towards the southern coastline.

Afterwards, Grissom pulled covers around their shoulders wrapping them in a cocoon warmed by heat radiating from their bodies. Over the years, he had grown to understand Sara's body and mind better than he knew his own. For most of his life, he had been extremely methodical, a classic preoccupied scientist, until the day he met Sara Sidle. The thought of that meeting still brought a smile to his face; an emotional connection had been made. As he remembered that day, he had felt an unknown sensation—a sentiment that he later defined as passion.

He made some sound as his thoughts progressed from the day they met. Sara raised up and crooked her elbow to hold her head. The other hand rested on his chest.

"And what was that?" She asked.

He kissed her, drawing her lips to his in a sudden, prolonged kiss. "That's for being so determined—for marrying me after all those years."

Her quiet laughter joined his. "Yeah, and we've got two daughters who got a double dose of stubbornness."

"Are you ready to leave this place? You've loved the research. The kids have had a great time."

Sara nodded. "I've known this was temporary—that what I am doing will be just a tiny step in a much longer journey. But it has been great—being the beginner, the 'learner', the student—and I'll hate to leave, but I'm looking forward to getting back home."

Her head rested on his chest; her body melded against his in total tranquility of after sex peace.

"About the house, Sara. I made a few changes from our plans."

"Mmm—do we get our own bathroom?"

"Oh, yeah!"

"And two dishwashers in the kitchen?"

"Yeah—just a few little things—I think you'll like it. Sister Deborah says everything is almost finished—just waiting for us."

She lifted her head, kissing his chest. "I know I'll be happy with it." She quietly laughed. "Let's hope we can spread out, get Eli and Bizzy sleeping upstairs."

…Late fall arrived in the foothills of the oldest mountains in America and the university closed for a week. Sara knew they needed to pack; the end of her research grant was fast approaching, but Grissom had other ideas.

"We should take a trip!" He said early one morning as the two turned heating vents wide open in hopes of getting a little more warmth into the house. They had discovered a major drawback of the huge house after several days of dropping temperatures—heat came from a central steam generating furnace across campus and regulating temperature in the house was nearly impossible.

"In a few weeks we are taking a trip—a return trip, Gil. Seven of us in the van and we haven't even begun to pack our things."

"It would be fun," he said. "We can drive to the beach—see the Atlantic Ocean," he said. "I'll find a nice place," he offered. "The kids will love it," he said with a grin. "And you love the beach."

Before she could protest, perhaps not very strongly because she would like to visit the beach, the doorbell rang, startling both at such an early hour. Grissom headed downstairs.

A few minutes later, Will began to make noise and Sara went to pick him up, hearing Grissom talking to someone, and taking time to change the baby before going downstairs. She heard more than two voices coming from the kitchen amid the rattling of cups and running water. Weekends were lazy days for them and Grissom was making coffee for someone—a least two men from the low conversation drifting upstairs.

"We have enough evidence…" the voice was covered by another speaker. Sara entered the kitchen to find three uniformed men sitting at the table. One was Pearlie May's nephew; all three stood as she entered.

They had arrived with an update on the two murdered women—the hunt for the killer continued but this morning they were explaining how the search had narrowed to one man.

"We'll find him—he's been around for years. Minor stuff that has escalated without bringing attention to him. We know he was destructive; he destroyed campsites, broke into cars. In the spring, several female hikers reported being stalked by a man fitting his description." One of the men explained.

"He'll return—same trail, maybe the same area. We've put up posters and warnings without actually naming him, but people on these trails are trusting—too trusting most of the time."

Grissom took Will from Sara as she poured coffee and cereal, cut a banana in bite sizes pieces. Will grinned, showing off a row of baby teeth.

The youngest of the men reached a hand out, spreading fingers and making a crawling motion toward Will who laughed at the play. "She's a cute little girl," the man said.

Sara smiled as she gathered a handful of curls in one hand. "She's a boy—Will," and to lessen his embarrassment, quickly added, "He looks a lot like his sisters and he's getting a haircut very soon!"

"We have three girls upstairs," Grissom explained, "and another boy."

Their talk returned to the unsolved case of the dead women, the ability to live hidden in the mountains, ravens, and small communities spread along the many connecting trails, the probability that he would return to the area. They left as quietly and as quickly as they had arrived, not wishing to disrupt Saturday morning, leaving Sara and Grissom at the table with Will.

"Take him today for a haircut," Sara said, lifting a lock of curly hair. "I know I should have done this months ago." She held the hair between her fingers letting it wrap around one finger. She knew her baby would disappear and become a little boy when the soft ringlets were cut.

Grissom took her hand. Will played with his empty bowl, unaware of the conversation concerning his hair. "Sara, his hair can grow to his waist—I don't care. We'll put a ball cap on his head; hand a name tag around his neck." He lifted Will's hair. "I can make a pretty good pony tail for the girls—I'll just do the same with his." He grinned.

"Today—Eli needs a hair cut too. Don't cut it all. I like his curls." She kissed Grissom. "Just like I love these." She ran her hand through her husband's hair and made a growling sound. Will mimicked her sound.

…Grissom found a beach house from a recommendation made by one of the researchers, a four hour drive, fast highway to the coastline, an easy drive, a great place, the last privately owned property before a national preserve of wetlands and seashore. A week at the beach, warmer weather, while the rest of the country ate turkey and watched football, the Grissom family would celebrate Thanksgiving in their own way.

Of course, a four hour drive with five children lengthened to nearly six hours, but with an early start, multiple stops, movies and naps, they arrived on the sliver of land by mid-afternoon and, immediately, everyone knew a change had occurred during their drive. Sweaters and jackets remained in the van as everyone piled out into a driveway of oyster shells and sand. A warm wind rustled leaves on oaks that provided shade to the entrance of the house while dunes blocked the view of the ocean. And the sound—the sound of constant surf filled the air, an occasional bird call broke the continuing sound of waves crashing into sand.

"It looks haunted," Eli said of the grey shingled house. When he stopped walking, three others stopped behind him.

"It sounds haunted," Bizzy exclaimed with a nervous giggle, "and I hear ghosts!"

The house could have been plucked from a fairy tale—if it had ever been painted, every trace of color has long since been blown or washed away. An elevated porch surrounded three sides while a steep multi-gabled roof overhung edges of the porch. Two round towers rose above the porch, each enclosed with tall, slim windows until each opened to a screen porch.

Grissom plucked Will from his car seat, saying "It's not haunted—it's going to be filled with us! No room for ghosts with all the noise we make!" He gave a whoop before yelling "Leave all you ghosts and haunts—we don't have room for you!" He started up the steps—alone. "Come on, no ghosts, just us!" And Eli ran after him, followed by Bizzy and Ava.

Annie hung back, taking her mother's hand. "There are no ghosts, Annie." Sara hauled a large bag of groceries from the back of the van. "They are teasing us."

"What's that sound, Mommy?"

"It's the ocean—the waves make that sound when the wind is blowing. You'll see."

The child kept her hand in her mother's, her thumb in her mouth, reluctant to move. Sara bent to pick Annie up. "It's okay, sweetheart. We are going to have lots of fun. It's been a long time since we were at the beach." She looked up to see the others disappearing into the house. She managed to carry the food and her daughter up the flight of steps to the porch.

_A/N: Thanks for reading!_


	13. Chapter 13

**A Few Days Continued, Time in the Triangle Chapter 13**

From the porch, the view was one of brilliant blue sky and crashing ocean waves along an isolated sandy beach. The waves were no more than four feet high but moved furiously against the shore driven by wind gusts that created more rough surf away from the coastline. Sara looked up and down the beach seeing no one and only a few houses in the distance. They had driven through a small town, many shops closed for the season, yet the grocery store had been busy with locals.

Grissom appeared taking the grocery bag from her hand. "It's beautiful! Come in, Annie—run upstairs and pick out your bed with the others."

She shook her head.

"Ghosts," Sara mouthed, then said aloud. "We'll go up and pick out beds together—see the porch." She turned in a wide circle. "It is beautiful! And it's new—it looks old!"

The kitchen was placed in the center of the house with open space around it—sofas and rocking chairs, recliners, tables and chairs of various sizes were grouped around the room. From every place, one could see the ocean. Grissom was already opening windows and doors.

"Isn't it great?" He asked. "I'll bring in bags." He pointed his finger at Sara. "Claim one of the bedrooms—big bed," and grinned.

She headed up the stairs, carrying Annie who continued to refuse to walk. Running feet, a babble of voices, and four excited kids met her on the second floor. There were two bunk beds, and trundle beds, 'boat' beds, and two small 'fish' beds to choose from, and one completely white room with a king-size bed covered in white.

Sara pointed to the big bed, saying "That's mine—has everyone else picked a place to sleep?" Finally, Annie joined the others as they ran from room to room, trying to decide where to sleep, jumping on beds, shrieking and giggling with every motion. Bags were carried into various rooms and the once quiet, neat beach cottage was transformed into a noisy, boisterous place as warm air filled the house.

While the sun was still high in the sky, the wind died and stilled the water to a lulling rhythm changing the crashing of waves to gentle rolls of water and creating an almost glassy surface to the ocean. By then, everyone was on the beach where the adults found a piece of driftwood arched over the sand to serve as a sort of beach resting place. Shrimp boats appeared in the far distance bobbing on heavy, green waves. Pelicans were diving, splashing into the water, scooping up fish.

The children played near their parents; the emptiness of the beach kept them from wandering more than a few yards. Eli and Bizzy dared the other to wade into tide pools warmed by the sun and filled with tiny minnows swimming as a dark shadow. They found small nets underneath the house and worked to catch and release the finger long fish. Ava, Annie, and Will found amusement in the sand—rolling in it, digging holes, filling plastic buckets with water or sand.

For hours, Sara lay watching her children, a hat shading her eyes, as they ran back and forth. Grissom slept a short while, joined the kids in catching minnows and building a lopsided sand castle before returning to his place beside Sara.

"Everyone loves the beach," he said, smiling in the same captivating way he had of being sexy and pleased at the same time. He rolled toward Sara, coming up on his elbow to kiss her. "I think everyone will sleep well tonight," he whispered.

She grinned and crossed her legs as his arms circled her shoulders. A little voice behind Grissom asked, "Is it time to eat?"

Putting away play things, dinner—preparing and eating, baths and showers, climbing the circular stairway to the rooftop porch to see stars, a made-up game of exchanging beds, and the general upheaval of a new and strange house finally quieted as five children went to sleep. Grissom showered and crawled into bed, thinking of one thing with his brain, yet his body overruled his thoughts and, like his children, he was asleep before Sara walked out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel. He barely stirred as she tucked the comforter over him and slipped into bed.

…The brush of something against his face—a sensation of feathers tickled his ear, something warm against his cheek brought his eyes wide open, taking a few seconds for him to realize he had been asleep; the house was dark except for the moonlight's shadows on the floor, the wind moving thin curtains in wispy floating clouds. He focused on the form standing beside the bed, the curls on her head not much taller than the bed.

"I'm scared, Daddy." The child's voice was blurry with sleep as Annie stood near the bed, her wide eyes level with his.

"Sweetheart, why are you scared? Everyone's asleep." He said as he reached to touch her. "Crawl up here and we can sleep together."

She backed away, rubbing her eyes. "I wanna sleep in the fish bed."

By now he was fully awake. "Okay. You want me to put you back in bed?" He asked.

Annie nodded. "Will you sleep with me? I hear the ghost."

His feet touched the floor and he picked her up. "There are no ghosts, Annie. You hear the ocean and the wind."

"Eli said there's ghosts."

"Eli was teasing you, Sweetie. He was making a joke." He carried her back to the room with the fish beds—child sized beds shaped like a flipping fish, the head and tail making a canopy over the mattress.

"Will you sleep with me, Daddy?"

Grissom looked at the single bed, barely five feet long.

"Please," his daughter whispered as she put her head on his shoulder.

The two lay together in the tiny bed. Grissom bent his knees and cuddled his daughter to his chest. He would move when she fell asleep, he thought.

"I love you, Daddy," she whispered as her breath warmed his chest.

"I love you, Annie."

Sara woke to a quiet house, an empty bed, and the early morning sun warming the floor. She stretched, surprised to find she was alone. Her first action was to look outside, thinking Grissom would be on the porch or on the beach. But finding his sandals, his hat, and the doors locked, she searched inside the house. She found Eli and Bizzy sleeping on the two top bunk beds, Will was buried in covers in one of the boat beds. In the fish beds, she found the others—Annie and Ava tightly bundled against Grissom—like mismatched sardines in a can—curled into a space meant for one small body.

Sara tip-toed from the room; she knew his back would ache for hours, but his daughters had gotten to sleep in the fish bed.

The first afternoon established a pattern for days that followed. The sun, sand and water beckoned to children and adults. In a closet they found a beach cabana, chairs, balls, buckets, and shovels and all of it was hauled to the beach. It amazed Grissom how children found entertainment and joy in sand and water, moving buckets of sand to the water's edge or water to a hole in sand, finding shells and attempting to catch baby crabs and small fish. Exhaustion rotated among the children as one would lay in the shade of the cabana to be joined by another and sleep slipped up in quiet moments.

Sara watched the children, sitting cross-legged in the sand, or in one of the sagging beach chairs in the cabana or stretched on the sand. On a warm day when the ocean's surface was rough and rolling with ragged waves, she pulled a faded red sea kayak from underneath the house. The last tide had left a long isolated pool of water several yards from the surf's edge. She slid the plastic boat into the water as her children watched.

"Who's first?" She asked as she held one end and Grissom held the other.

The boat wobbled as Eli was the first to wade into the shallow water. After he floated to the end of the pool, a parent on each end of the narrow boat, the others were eager for a turn. By the time each child had sat on top of the boat, floated the length of the tide pool, and realized the water was no more than a foot deep, they considered themselves sailors of vast experience. For hours, the five children found a dozen ways to paddle and play with the boat.

By noon, tiredness had overtaken fun and everyone climbed the dune path to the house for a quick lunch before a group rest on the porch which turned into extended naps. Sleeping children appearing as dolls forgotten in the midst of play were scattered among cushions and old quilts.

"If we move them upstairs would we be able to sleep?" Grissom was on his back, somehow arranging to have his head in Sara's lap; his hand brought hers to his lips. She smiled.

"Gilbert, is it really a nap you want?" She teased.

"I want to be in bed with you without interruptions—without another little warm body between us."

She snickered. Already three nights had passed and they had not had leisurely sex—yes, a quick, early morning act the day before—but that did not really count, not what either wanted or desired. She nodded.

"I'll take Annie; you take Bizzy." These two were the ones most likely to wake; the others would sleep for hours. They carried sleeping children up stairs and tucked each into a bed; Will was the last one and Sara covered him with a light weight blanket in the boat bed. He had babbled with excitement at sleeping in a 'big boy' bed instead of a crib and the first morning had learned how to crawl out of the bed.

Grissom had closed the safety gate at the top of the stairs, opened windows in the white bedroom, pushed the comforter to the foot of the bed, and switched on the ceiling fan. He dropped his sandy clothes in a heap and stepped into the shower. Sara would know where to find him. He leaned against the tiles as water showered his skin with drops as soft as a spring rain. Several minutes passed before he saw a shadow cross the opaque door, long fingers closed around the edge.

"Hey," he said as he took her hand. "Everyone asleep?"

She had shed her clothes and smelled of sun and salt and lotion. He could see golden grains of sand along her shoulder, down her arm. "Yeah, for hours, I hope." Quiet laughter followed as she felt his hand move across her shoulder, his fingertips tracing along her back.

"We should have hired a baby sitter," were the last words he said as Sara turned and met his lips with hers. He touched her chin, her jaw before burrowing his face into her neck, breathing deeply.

For much of his adult life, he had missed moments like this until, very quickly, his life had erupted, become more vivid and radiant, more real. He realized how perishable all life's moments really were, how life had come to him begging to be lived, to be cherished, and the impassive way he had treated life—his and others.

He moved a finger along the flat valley between her breasts; their hips touched. Their bodies came together in the first flush of passion. Their foreheads touched before their lips met as water splashed around their shoulders.

At the same instant, they heard a sound and eyes locked in a split second. One, or both, looked down to see a small plump hand pressed against the glass. Sara looked at Grissom; he was smiling a tight lipped grin. He pulled the door open enough to see a small boy standing naked, giving a gaped tooth smile at his parents.

"Book," Will said, holding up a child's story book.

Sara began to snicker trying to keep her giggles silent as her body shook. Grissom shot her a glance before shrugging his shoulders. He reached to turn off the water as Sara bent to pick up Will. She tossed the book aside.

"Now we know why we love to have you in a crib, don't we?" Sara laughed as she brought the baby into the shower.

Will reached for his father, babbling a few incomprehensible words, as his hands played on Grissom's face.

"Hey, little boy! We thought you would sleep a long time." He tickled Will's tummy. "And where are your clothes?" Sara's hands went around Grissom's waist with a towel. He heard her quiet laughter as her hand gave an affectionate pat against a certain part of his anatomy.

Minutes later, all three were on the big bed, the plans for other activity gone for now. Will crawled from mother to father, pleased to have their undivided attention, and content to play between them.

Sara had rolled to place her head against Grissom's shoulder when Will showed no inclination for continuing his nap. "Did you ever think your life would be like this?" Will had crawled to straddle her chest placing wet kisses on her face as she spoke.

She heard a low rumble in his chest and at the sound, Will tumbled, crawled over her to his dad where he put his mouth against Grissom's stomach and proceeded to blow against his skin in slobbery bubbles, laughing at his own sounds.

Grissom and Sara had not kept secrets from each other in years yet both had incidents and memories that were untold, by choice or by forgetfulness or by simple lapse in memory. At times, one would remember and relate a story of some event recalled because of what was happening around them. Sometimes, these remembrances came in quiet times, with the unexpected question that stirred a memory, a spilling of words that came as water from a broken dam.

His hand found Sara's and he laced his fingers with hers. "Until I met you, I never realized how much of a crater my heart had been." His voice was deep, husky with emotions but very strong, vital as he spoke. "I had not been touched in so long—years, I think—when I met you. It was such a jolt to meet a person—to have feelings that I couldn't quite decipher. It was strange and only accessible when I was with you." His hand caressed hers. "After we made love the first time, I didn't know if I could go about life again in the same careless way. I had been in denial for years—and I continued that way except for the times with you." He paused for a minute, and Sara heard a deep chuckle before he sighed. "I guess I was in denial and stubborn for years, wasn't I? I deeply regret waiting so long—waiting for the right time, or until I figured things out."

His son had wiggled from his side to Sara and back again. He picked Will up and placed him on his chest, as he continued making baby noises of play.

Grissom continued speaking. "I wish we had married years before we did. I wish my mother could have known our kids—that would have made her enormously happy." Will had moved to his mother and Grissom pulled both close to him. "Your question—did I ever think my life would be like this?" He chuckled. "No, never. It's something I could not have imagined! And there's nothing I would change." He kissed her. "Do you think this little guy is going to sleep?"

_A/N: Enjoy! We appreciate your comments, your encouragement, your reviews! Next chapter--rated "M"! These two have to have a little sweet fun before leaving the beach!_


	14. Chapter 14

**A Few Days Continued, Time in the Triangle Chapter 14**

…Sara laughed to herself as she listened to the sounds coming from upstairs. Grissom was putting kids to bed—he had supervised baths and showers, read stories, closed blinds, and tucked everyone into a chosen bed. All day he had worked and planned and put into action—long walks with the children, the building of a massive sand castle, very short naps early in the afternoon, a quick trip into town with three children, a search for seashells before dinner, and watching pelicans and gulls from the roof top porch before bedtime. She heard him call her name—he was great with order and direction when he wanted to be, she thought. And to get what he wanted.

She kissed each child; Annie was almost asleep and Will never knew she entered the room where he slept, even Bizzy's book was closed by the time Sara kissed her tan nose. She picked up clothes and pushed shoes out of the way. Grissom stopped her as she started downstairs, arms filled with shorts, shirts, and towels.

"I'll take care of this," he said, giving her that enigmatic, familiar smile. He nodded toward the bedroom. "In there—shower, take a bath. I'll be right back."

Sara took a long shower, expecting Grissom to show up any minute. When he did, his hair was wet and he wore a clean shirt and his old shorts. In one hand he held a bottle of wine and two glasses; from his left hand, he gave her two items. She giggled like a schoolgirl.

"This is our time—everyone's asleep. Gate is in place and we're going to the porch." He followed behind her after she had slipped into the two pieces of clothing.

Before Sara reached the top, Grissom said, "Stop," but before she could turn, she felt his lips on the back of her thigh in a brief kiss.

The staircase curled in a spiral going to the rooftop porches; a small glass enclosed room at the top opened onto one porch. A narrow walkway connected to a second porch, and railings with clear panels made an unobstructed view—an illusion of nothing between porch and the sky.

When Sara opened the door, she knew what Grissom had been doing while she was in the shower. Pillows were covering the porch—not just pillows but cushions from downstairs chairs—making a soft bed. Blankets were piled in a heap to one side. A small cooler sat beside the door—she could not imagine what was inside—but suspected it was something related to his quick trip this afternoon.

"You've been busy," she murmured as she stepped around pillows.

From his back pocket, he pulled a small hand size device. "And we can hear anything from the bedrooms." He sat the remote monitor beside the cooler.

She folded legs and sat, reaching to arrange pillows as he poured wine. "Local stuff," he said as he opened the cooler. "And these." A strawberry appeared in his hand.

Sara's eyes widened. "Where did you find strawberries—fresh ones?" She leaned over the cooler. "A lot of strawberries!"

"Grocery store—hot house grown, I'm sure, but very good," he popped the first one into her mouth.

She reached for the button on his shirt, and his hand closed over hers. The quick trip up the stairs, the kiss on the back of her leg, knowing he had worked all day to have this quiet time at the top of the house gave her a weak-in-the-knee excitement, warmth already pooling in her body.

He raised an arm to reach around her, pulling her so close she could breathe in his unique, intriguing scent. She dampened her lips with the tip of her tongue before pressing them against his neck. Her hands free, she quickly unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it away. His arms had embraced her; as she touched him she heard a low, hungry groan deep in his chest. The knowledge that she had such an effect on him made her feel strong, and loved, and magical.

Their lips met and sensations whipped through both; after so many years together, a passionate kiss, the feeling of his arms around her, the intimacy of her body next to his brought an emotional connection, a coming together of desires. When she felt his palm close over her breast, pleasure surged through her as wonderful tension. She heard herself utter a soft, husky moan.

"You are beautiful." He pushed her back into the cushions as his thumb circled her nipple. He brushed aside the white shirt she wore, one of his, as his mouth replaced his thumb. He moved his hand downward until he reached the top of her panties. His fingers played with the edge of the band of the silky fabric. He moved further downward, gently separating her thighs before cupping his hand between her legs. His lips left a trail along her abdomen until his teeth grasped and pulled on the white triangle of cloth. He felt a shiver against his lips and reached for a quilt.

Sara no longer held her emotions in check when making love. It was exciting; it was secure feeling the heat build inside her body. She knew when Grissom's hand and fingers stroked against her in an intimate way. She knew she was already wet. She had closed her eyes as shivery thrills began to trip throughout her body. Her hips seem to move of their own accord; she kept one hand on his shoulder, smiling as he removed her panties.

With one hand he pushed her underwear off and flipped it behind him without taking his lips away from her thigh. He loved the taste of her, the erotic scent—she smelled of the sea, of citrus, a fragrance too rare to be named and one he would remember the rest of his life. Raising her knees on either side of his head, he found the very center of her desire and gently kissed her before continuing with his fingers, sliding one, then a second inside, probing gently.

She gasped, her hips shifted, lifting against him. One hand tangled in his hair, the other was grasping his hand. She said his name, a whisper, "Gil."

He could hear her quick breaths and knew she was in the clutch of a force without conscious comprehension. He sensed her impending climax before she did; her entire body tensed as a low, passionate sound of pleasure reached his ears. Sara's release came as a burst from a storm, and quickly, he moved. He caught her head with his hands and clamped his mouth over hers, swallowing the sound she made seconds before she softened. He loved when she came this way, completely, without holding back, knowing with certainty this was not the culmination of passion but the beginning.

Wrapping an arm around her, he moved between her thighs, heavy and rigid with desire. He moved again, finding the place where she was already wet, the aftershocks of her orgasm pulled him inside her, moving and twisting in motions that drove him deep. Waves of pleasure rippled through her. The throbbing, pulsating stimulation sent sensations of thundering surf pounding through his body. From somewhere in the distance, their ears heard what was happening in their bodies. Both tumbled into a sparkling whirlpool of clear cerulean ecstasy.

A long time later, the two wrapped together in a blanket and watched the sky; a thousand stars glittered against the blue-black darkness. Half the wine was gone, nearly all of the strawberries eaten. Sara's head rested on Grissom's chest, below his chin. They had talked, had laughed as they ate and drank, and now, rested, satisfied, sedated, they stayed together on the isolated rooftop.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Gil."

He chuckled. "It is today." His hand moved along her thigh, lifting her leg as he slipped his hand against her. "I know what I'm thankful for." His fingers began to move.

Sara's quiet laughter came as she kissed his shoulder. "How thankful are you, Gilbert?" She wrapped her leg around his, brought the blanket around her shoulders as she shifted to sit straddle of his thighs. The sound he made was one of pleasure, contentment, and gratification.

_A/N: Leave a review, little smut for those who like it! Thanks!_


	15. Chapter 15

**A Few Days Continued, Time in the Triangle Chapter 15**

Thanksgiving Day was no different for the Grissom's than most American families. The day centered on food and eating. In past years, they ate with friends and Sara avoided the turkey. While she did not strictly impose her way of eating on others, her children were mostly vegetarians eating cheese and eggs but rarely eating meats. And she did not prepare and serve meats at home.

This morning, she was in full swing preparing everyone's favorite foods—and while it took some time—she actually enjoyed the process. Today, Bizzy and Eli helped her in the beach house kitchen. Eli stirred together beans and corn, adding tomatoes, olives, spices and grated cheese; he placed the special Thanksgiving plates and cups on the table before running outside to join the others.

Bizzy had always been her mother's helper even before she was old enough to do much and at her age could chop and peel and stir most of the foods enjoyed by the family. She also loved the time spent with her mother—time without Eli breaking into their conversation, or Will sitting in his high chair, or her sisters chatter. She spread a special sauce and rolled enchiladas around browned tofu, beans, rice, and peppers, placing each one in the casserole pan. This was her dad's favorite dish; they were using three different cheeses today to make it special.

"What's next, Mom?" She asked as the last enchilada was covered with more cheese.

"Salad—I'll do lettuce if you cut fruit."

The two, so much alike as dark heads bent into the refrigerator, reached for several kinds of lettuce, almonds, mushrooms, oranges and strawberries.

Bizzy moved several things around and opened a drawer. "We got more strawberries—like four baskets and now there's only one." She held one green container in her hand.

"I ate some last night," Sara admitted, washing lettuce and trying to suppress a smile.

"That's a lot of strawberries."

"Yeah, your dad helped."

Bizzy dumped the fruit into a colander; a thoughtful frown wrinkling her forehead as she washed each berry and patted them dry. Her mother passed her a small knife and she began to slice, carefully, as she had been taught.

She worked slower than usual because she was sneaking glances at her mother. Bizzy noticed things her brothers and sisters did not see—as the oldest girl, because her mind ran so fast, because she processed her thoughts in a different way—she was not sure how she knew certain things—she just did. This morning, her mother was very happy, and while she was almost always happy, today, the smile on her face was brighter, she sang as she worked, her dad's hand had rested on her mom's backside—she grinned as she thought of what might cause this subtle change.

"Hey, Mom, why did you eat so many strawberries?"

"I dunno—guess I had a taste for strawberries." Sara continued working on the salad, peeling and slicing mushrooms. She glanced up and smiled at Bizzy. "I shouldn't have eaten so many, should I?"

Bizzy smiled, a little hesitant with her thoughts. She put her knife down. "My friend, Kristi, when her mom ate lots of peaches, you know what happened?"

Sara stopped working, aware that her daughter was trying to say something. "No."

"She had a baby!"

Sara looked at her daughter finding a very serious little girl looking at her. She bit her lip to keep from smiling. "I'm not having a baby, Bizzy. Remember when I had Will and I was in bed for a long time? After he was born, I couldn't have another baby—we decided we had just the right number. I just ate the strawberries—that's all."

"Oh," Bizzy went back to work.

Sara stood still for several seconds trying to decide what to say, if anything. Bizzy was smart possessing a very high intelligence, an inquisitive mind for one so young. She wanted to keep her daughter in childhood as long as possible. She said, "Don't you think our family is perfect—a boy at the beginning and end, three pretty girls in the middle—or boy bookends with our girls as books?" She smiled when she saw Bizzy smile.

"Yeah, I like the way we are now. I'm happy Dad got all those strawberries—he was trying to do something special, wasn't he?"

"He was—he did. He knows I love strawberries."

"Yeah, he likes them too," Bizzy laughed as she cut. "And he's going to like our salad."

They made soup and macaroni and cheese, warmed rolls and sliced tomatoes, even spread peanut butter and honey on triangles of bread slices because that was Will's favorite food. The two steamed carrots, sliced cabbage for coleslaw, baked potatoes, and made a pizza. Three pies purchased in town were placed in the oven to warm.

The family ate and laughed together around a big table in the rented house—unusual because there was no turkey which no one missed and no one watched football games on television. The looks passed between parents were not missed by one pair of eyes at the table. She could not put a name to what it was, except to think this was love between her parents.

…The weeks flew by with end of semester activities and packing belongings and getting everyone ready for a cross-country trip and Christmas and Santa letters. Because this year, the family was driving, taking a southern route, they would spend Christmas in Las Vegas. Sara did not know who was most excited—her children, their father, or the person they called Uncle Greg.

With excitement growing, Pearlie May was sad to see the family leave the House in the center of campus. She had been fearful of what she would have with five little children, but she had enjoyed them. Something about each child made each one a favorite. She loved Eli for his bright eyes, his talent on the old piano; he asked her to attend his recital and she went as a member of the family. Everyone was so proud when he played a flawless solo, then doubly proud of the duet with his teacher. With Bizzy, Pearlie May knew the child was a genius, a secret hard to keep when the child was working the Sunday crossword puzzle. She was a little Sara—worried and fussed over everything! And she loved to cook, sticking by Pearlie May's side and asking a question a minute.

The twins were entirely different children from Eli and Bizzy. How two parents had such different children amazed everyone. To Pearlie May, it was just how children turned out. Those girls were as flighty as their sister was serious. They were smart but their minds jumped into action before thinking of consequences. Both parents had to bite their own tongues but they were consistent with time-outs and taking away privileges when rules were broken. Ava and Annie needed the strong guidance they got from Sara and Grissom—Pearlie May had seen the results when parents looked the other way. And the girls loved their daddy, and truth be told, he was wrapped around several fingers.

Baby Will was too young to be trouble. He laughed, those curls bobbing on his head, looking so much like his daddy. Pearlie May did not recall ever seeing a child with a chin cleft or an eyebrow that could be raised so much like his father's. Will's shorter hair did not diminish his curls either. The boy had a double dose of those too, and he could charm, already smiling and ducking his head when he wanted something.

Of course, she also loved the older Grissom's. Dr. Grissom, with his bugs out on that body farm—gave her a creepy crawl feeling just thinking about it! And on the far side of age when he decided to be a father, she thought, but he made up for age by staying active, carrying his children around, taking time to teach them things that most father's never thought about or had time to do. She had heard a lot about both when their friend visited—Mr. Brass loved to talk, she quickly learned.

Pearlie May had to admit, only to herself, that she had rarely met someone like Sara Grissom. The woman worked all the time—even when she said she was relaxing, she worked. She kept order, her children were well behaved, she worked in one of the research projects where the real smart people worked—Pearlie May never understood those fancy named projects that had to do with math or physics or chemistry. She knew one thing—seldom had she known a couple who loved each other as much as Sara and her Gil. It wasn't just physical love; Pearlie May shook with silent laughter as she remembered almost discovering the two in the sun porch one morning. After that morning, she always made plenty of noise when she arrived!

Pearlie May was going to miss them—knowing her next residents would be an older couple. No one playing on the swing set in the yard; the sunroom would turn into a place for plants, no broken legs or split lips or little feet running around on polished floors. She wiped the top of the kitchen table—everything would go back to being well-ordered, quiet, boring—she was already missing them.

She helped them pack—Ava and Annie chattering like crows about what to take with them and what to let movers pack. Bizzy was very specific knowing what she wanted to pack and selecting several things for the van.

"I'm gonna miss you girls," Pearlie May said as she folded clothing into boxes. She was surprised that Sara had not insisted on packing everything, but going home was different from moving to a strange place.

"We will miss you, Miss Pearlie," Bizzy stopped packing and came to wrap arms around Pearlie May's neck. Ava and Annie were next; all three attempting to sit on a knee or get under her arm. "One day will you come to visit us?"

"Oh, honey, I don't think so. Your home is a long, long way away and I don't travel much."

Bizzy managed to prop a crooked arm on Pearlie May's knee. "You can fly, like Daddy does. We drive because we have so much stuff! And there's so many of us."

The woman shook with laughter. "No, ma'am, I can't fly. They don't make a plane big enough for me!"

Her statement puzzled the girls, and Ava said, "You can go with us!"

"I need to stay here for awhile, take care of the house. Maybe one day, you will look up and old Pearlie May will be walking up your driveway! Wouldn't that be a surprise!"

The girls giggled, rolling off her lap. "You can't walk the entire way!" Bizzy exclaimed. "It would take days and days!" They laughed more as they thought about Pearlie May walking a long way because they knew she never walked very far.

…The day came when boxes were packed, the van was filled with suitcases and bags, snacks were in a cooler, Grissom had maps, car seats had been cleaned and hooked into place. In a few months, the Grissom family had gained friends—colleagues who worked with Sara, students and biology professors who knew Grissom, Pearlie May, her sister and nephew, and a half dozen children and their parents came to wish them well, say goodbye, bring gifts and remembrances of the time spent on a university campus.

Boxes waited for a moving truck and the people who had been strangers were as close as family. Sara's research would continue, a part of it going to California with her. A grant gave her direct access to the lab, and while few people would ever know or understand what was done, the research saved lives. The cancer patient who needed specialized treatment, the brain tumor that shrunk, the invading cells that were stopped—all those processes originated with a mathematical formula and physics. Sara would continue to work with the design, specifying procedures, individualizing formulas, but it would be from home.

_A/N: Thanks for reading--reviews too! It will probably be a week before we post the next chapter! Three to 5 chapters left---_


	16. Chapter 16

**A Few Days Continued, Time in the Triangle Chapter 16**

They drove south, knowing weather could change suddenly at this time of year and having a reasonable expectation of better weather to Atlanta, Jackson, New Orleans, across south Texas before reaching their northward turn to Las Vegas. Greg, Nick, Catherine and Jim promised a Christmas to remember.

"Don't worry about a thing!" Had been their mantra. Sara worried. She had emailed lists—very short lists of potential Santa Claus presents. Jim Brass called with "Is that all they want? I don't believe it!"

Catherine said, "We are decorating Greg's house! You won't believe it!" Her excitement did not negate Sara's worry.

Greg and Nick said, "Just get here!" It had been years since either had asked for vacation days around Christmas. Nick told her that Jim had never taken a Christmas holiday—until now.

Las Vegas was at least a week away—more than that until Christmas day. Grissom had studied maps and points of interest for several weeks. He had a plan and he had a map. He and Eli insisted on two stops—one a battlefield from the 1860s War Between the States and the Alamo. Bizzy and Eli agreed on a couple of days in New Orleans. Eli was already picking our jazzy tunes and he wanted to hear jazz music in its birthplace. Sara had called to make sure children could be in the audience and her request had been met with sincere laughter. The man said "Lady, we got kids playing jazz on stage—bring 'em in, the younger the better!"

Frequent breaks meant fewer miles on the highway during the first days of driving as they acclimated to traveling. They toured the historic battlefield, more of a mountain side than field, with a high ridge overlooking five states on a clear day. Nearby they visited a tourist attraction of winding paths and swinging bridges in and around and over rocks, a man-made cave filled with animated story book characters perfectly suited to young children.

Another day, in an alluvial plain, Eli was the first to see a hot air balloon and they followed dozens of the floating giants to a landing field—a former soybean field—where they watched as one after another the baskets and balloons soared, drifted, and gently glided to landings.

By mid-week, they reached New Orleans where they would stay for two nights; Grissom and Sara remembered the city's past, a flood that wiped out everything and turned much of the city into a ghost town. It sparkled in the distance yet there continued to be a rough, ragged edge of empty lots and vacant buildings scattered along the highway. Once in the city, the oldest quarter, the business district, and the tourist areas gave no evidence of damage done by water, neglect, and poverty.

Their hotel had remained the same for nearly one hundred years, secluded around a hidden courtyard where uniformed men appeared for luggage, a quiet oasis steps away from street musicians, fortune tellers, loud night clubs, and late night parties. The rooms had small balconies overlooking another courtyard filled with flowers and trees and statues.

"That's the convent," the bellman explained. "You can hear the sisters singing at sunrise and sunset."

By now, the children were experienced travelers in trying out beds, flushing toilets, unwrapping small bars of soap, checking out closets and cabinets for "hidden treasures" of televisions, irons, Bibles, and whatever can be found in hotel rooms all over the world. Their first destination was a two block walk to the most famous fried dough restaurant in the world, and within minutes, eyes were shining and mouths opened in astonished amazement with the arrival of plates of the unique squares of fried 'do-nuts' or beignets covered with fine sugar that blew in great clouds of white powder at first bite.

It was the simplest form of entertainment—watching others eat, creating a mess with squeals and laughter of delight as Sara and Grissom watched. "Making memories," Sara said as a puff of sugar landed on Eli's nose and just as she reached a finger to brush his nose, Will blew across the top of his beignet. Sugar rose in a cloudy white fog above their heads settling on the round table, on hands and faces, bringing more laughter as children and adults gasped and choked and giggled at their powdered coating.

Afterwards, they found a grassy riverside park with empty space to run and roll as huge tankers and ships passed along the river. They found gaudy bright beads for the girls and plastic alligators for the boys. They ate meals with new and strange sounding names; Bizzy placed shrimp in a circle around her plate; Eli forked each one and grinned broadly as he ate all of them.

The next day was postcard perfection with cool temperatures, clear sky, and a ferry ride across the wide river. They boarded an old fashioned street car and traveled along a tree shaded boulevard to a zoo with white alligators and an atrium filled with rainbow colored birds. Late in the afternoon, they found the music hall, already filling with tourists for an early performance, benches crowded with multi-generations of families. While musicians warmed up, small children played near the stage.

The musicians' entertained—old and young played horns, keyboards, drums bringing life to notes as old as sound. Several players were assisted to the stage to infirm to walk but retaining the ability to make music. A young boy, no older than Eli, played the piano and sang. Eli and Bizzy watched, surprise showing in mesmerized faces. Sara smiled and glanced at Grissom, both remembering the talent of his father.

By sunset, they were back at the hotel, Will slept while Grissom and three children went to the pool. Bizzy and Sara sat together on the balcony watching the nuns prepare for vespers. One waved at the two and Bizzy excitedly returned a wave. The woman, dressed in the old-fashioned black and white habit of years ago waved again, a motion to come to the narrow gate in the courtyard.

"The child," the old voice called to the balcony.

"Can I go, Mom? It's just down the stairs!"

Sara watched as Bizzy flew downward and disappeared into a passageway, returning to the balcony in time to see Bizzy appear below and cross a walkway to the narrow opening where the nun stood. She watched as they talked, unable to hear their words; twice Bizzy turned and waved to her mother. The old nun reached into a deep pocket and handed something to Bizzy. Bizzy moved her hand, and even though her back was to Sara, the movement was familiar and easily recognized.

The two parted, the nun looked upward and smiled at Sara, waving a hand before disappearing into a doorway. In a few minutes, Bizzy was back on the balcony.

"Look," she held out her hand, displaying five small oval shaped medals. "The sister gave me one for each of us." Each medal was stamped with St. Christopher.

Sara hugged her daughter. She had not practiced any sort of religion since her own childhood, yet religion—or spiritual living—played a role in her life. Several times a year, Grissom gathered his children and wife and went to church services. She knew their neighbors, a group of nuns, taught certain beliefs and traditions to her children and she never objected. Sara answered the questions of Eli and Bizzy when they asked about religion and God and faith and she included stories of the Bible and the saints in their reading. She never professed any doctrine or stated her own beliefs as ones her children must follow—believing in right and goodness not clouded by specific religions.

"That was nice of her," Sara said. "What else did you talk about?"

"I told her about Sister Deborah," Bizzy edged against her mother, swinging one leg across Sara's knees. "Mom, what if—what would you say if one day—when I'm grown—what if I wanted to be a nun?" Bizzy asked.

Sara's first instinct was to issue a denial—not her child, not her daughter—but she took a quick breath which gave her several seconds to respond. "Why do you want to be a nun?"

Bizzy leaned against her mother as both looked into the wall courtyard and hear soft ringing of bells at sunset. "I could live here! I could walk in their gardens and ride the streetcar and go eat beignets every day!"

Sara breathed relief for a child's answer. She recalled a similar incident from her own childhood—sometime's a whale is just a whale.

"You like New Orleans?"

Bizzy nodded. "I do. I like everything—it's green and old and new at the same time. It smells funny—in a good way. I like everything, even the funny man in the park!" She smiled, a broad grin so like her mother's. "Don't you think it would be a great place to live?"

Chimes began to play from the convent. Sara gathered her daughter into her arms, agreeing with everything said. Bizzy was a little girl, with dreams and wishes of childhood, Sara thought. They sat together listening to the unseen voices of women drifting from a two hundred year old chapel.

The quietness was interrupted by bubbling noise as the door opened and a trample of wet children and their father entered, dripping water, chattering teeth, and shivering arms and legs as they danced and tumbled around the room and, in the process, waking their brother. Bizzy presented each with a silver colored medallion, telling of her meeting with the nun.

"She's like Sister Deborah," she explained, "except she lives here and doesn't have cows. She wears a gold cross—this big," she held up her fingers. The twins ran to the balcony searching the courtyard for a possible sighting of the woman with simple gifts.

Eli examined his gift. "I want a necklace—a chain so I can wear mine."

Grissom grinned and glanced at Sara as the girls quickly agreed.

"What about a safety pin until we can get a proper chain?" Sara said.

They left New Orleans at sun rise driving west along a raised highway that seemed to be a skyway above a vibrant green carpet. Winter weather had not reached the swampy land that was more liquid than solid. They stopped for lunch in a small town and found a 'swamp walk' on elevated walkways that took them across shallow ponds and underneath cypress trees.

By the next day, they arrived at another destination chosen by Eli—the Alamo. No one cared that the city was built almost to the door of the historic fort. Davy Crockett's story was a favorite, even if the story was a little scrambled and more folk tale than fact. The five children play-acted within the walls of the old garrison, leaving with fake Bowie knives, Texas Ranger stars, and a small Texas flag. Nick would be proud, said Grissom, of any place that turned tourists into Texans.

The highway stretched in a concrete ribbon, four lanes, sometimes six lanes, traffic moving east and west. It appeared half the population was on this highway, and traveling with small children meant delays, more play stops, a few complaints but also stories of cowboys and long horns, truck stops and family diners, of jokes and jackalopes.

A state park with a warm spring fed pool was a welcomed surprise—along with a tourist court styled motel and the family spent a day swimming and playing in warm water while most of the country shivered in frosty weather. Mile after mile they crossed Texas and New Mexico, finally turning northward. Another day was spent running trails and scrambling over rocks to exhaust children for a long day in the van before arriving in Las Vegas.

_A/N: Thanks for reading, staying with out long story! We appreciate your comments! _


	17. Chapter 17

**A Few Days Continued, Time in the Triangle Chapter 17**

Of course, Christmas had not been forgotten. Grissom brought out movies of what Sara called "irritating Santa stories" that captivated the kids for hours, to be played and replayed on the van's small screens. Sara refused to have earphones snapped against her children's ears—her consolation was their obvious enjoyment and the progress of their trip as miles flew by. Every town, city, gas station, even cars and trucks, were decorated. Eli wanted reindeer antlers hooked to the front of their vehicle but both parents vetoed that suggestion. Sara felt she might suffer permanent brain damage if she heard a certain song one more time; just as the cartoon began to play again and four children added to the squeaky, high pitched voices of the characters.

And there was Greg—along with Catherine, Nick and Brass—who called for frequent updates in spite of receiving messages every night, but they wanted specifics; mile markers, who was asleep, how much longer. They were more anxious than the travelers in the van.

"We will be there in less than three hours; one more stop," Sara told Greg. "I'll call you as soon as we see lights—promise!"

Just as they drove around the last mountain to see a carpet of lights of Las Vegas, Greg called again. "Are you almost here?" His voice filled with excitement of a child. "We're all waiting!"

Sara glanced at Grissom. "Who is 'we', Greg?" He had wanted a welcoming party but Sara insisted "no party."

"Just us—Catherine, Nick, Brass is coming by, just us, no party."

"Twenty minutes," Grissom said.

Sara looked at her children. The end of a long day, more than a week on the highway, did not make for an orderly arrival. Clothes were a rumpled mess, shoes were off, socks mis-matched, shirts stained. Everyone's hair appeared to have missed a brush for a week. She knew Greg and Nick would not care; she did wish the girls' hair could be brushed before Catherine saw them.

A sudden shout got Sara's attention. Ava had squeezed a juice box and liquid shot across to land on Will who shouted before giggling as he said, "Juice, juice!" Sara laughed.

Grissom glanced in the rear view mirror, saw everyone laughing and decided all was well.

When they turned into Greg's neighborhood, the skyline of Vegas gave little competition to the holiday decorations in yards. Blow-up Santa's, twinkling and multi-colored lights, painted elves and angels and snowmen, and huge outdoor trees gave 'yard art' a new meaning.

The kids came alive with excitement—and Greg's yard was unbelievable. He had found every decoration available and had one of each in his yard. An inflated Santa on a motorcycle, reindeer, snowmen, a Christmas tree with little fake elves climbing a ladder to its top filled almost every space in his yard. Even Grissom noticed the gaudy display.

Sara whispered, "You would think the neighborhood covenants would prevent all this."

Grissom chuckled. "Greg probably paid for all of it!"

Within seconds, doors opened, children tumbled out as adults appeared in the yard and Sara and Grissom no longer thought the yard ornaments were tacky or over-done as children forgot to be tired or shy as they ran around the yard. Sara and Grissom leaned against the van and watched—even Catherine had lost her heels as she showed Eli a switch for a waving arm on a snowman.

For three days, excitement rolled and elevated until four children, and a baby brother too young to really understand what was happening, were exhausted from shopping, eating, playing, keeping secrets, and expecting the arrival of the friendly spirit in the red suit. Bizzy suspected the truth, but being a smart child, she kept most of her thoughts to herself. She had whispered to her mother one night that she had decided "Santa Claus is really you and Dad." Then added, "But the others still believe, so I will too."

Sara and Grissom enjoyed these friends. There were long discussion about events and people in a shared past. New stories were told of cases and crime and equipment and new people. At different times, everyone seemed to remember a forgotten appointment or slipped away to "clean the van" or run errands. Catherine and her daughter took the three Grissom girls shopping for girl stuff that Sara could not imagine. Nick and Greg disappeared with Eli leaving Sara, Grissom, and Will alone in a quiet house.

Grissom fed Will as Sara prepared their lunch. "I can't remember when it's been just us—days, I think," he said.

Sara ruffled one head of curly hair, then the other. "Don't get any ideas, lover boy. We have gifts to wrap—you saw what Greg has downstairs." And she slipped away from a hand that was moving up her leg. "Not even a quickie! Eat lunch—you need your strength!"

He pretended to pout before he grinned. "Maybe we can wrap fast?" She lifted an eyebrow.

Even with a two-person assembly line, even after Jim Brass arrived to offer his help, which consisted of pouring expensive amber liquid into two tumblers, it took a long time to wrap "Santa" gifts for five children. Greg, Nick, Catherine, and Jim had shopped with Sara's list—remote control cars, several games, books, dolls with various accruements, building sets, Duplo blocks, action figures, and child-size cooking sets complete with little packages of food. Sara tried to have each child a specific toy and several shared toys—not overdoing or going overboard on gifts. She had not had much success in convincing certain friends.

"Less is better," she said as Nick and Greg tried to talk her into several "got to have" new toys of the season. As she finished wrapping the last gift, she heard a car arriving. Grissom and Brass had deserted her for drinks on the patio and Will was busy with scraps of paper and cardboard. She hurriedly stuffed the wrapped presents into a closet and headed upstairs.

Meanwhile, Catherine and Lindsay had taken Bizzy, Ava, and Annie to a shopper's paradise in a specialty store filled with all things girls love from birth to old age, or nearly so. Catherine handed out money, explaining this was her gift to them—they could buy what they wanted. Hundreds of items—in pinks and purples, shiny sliver and glittery gold—were picked up, tried on, and replaced. Catherine and Lindsey laughed as they enjoyed a return to childhood. Decisions were difficult when there were so many tacky, gaudy, flashy objects to buy.

Hundreds of other shoppers joined in the mad rush of last minute buying, but the group paid little attention to others. One shopper watched from a distance as Bizzy tried on a princess costume only to decide she wasn't really a princess. Ava and Annie made their own outfits with crowns, iridescent net skirts, and long fake fur scarves. Catherine sat on the floor, giggling as hard as the little girls, when she saw and quickly recognized the woman walking toward them. She had not seen the woman in years, but would recognize Heather Kessler anywhere.

Catherine got to her feet. "Heather, I don't know if you remember me—Catherine Willows." As she said her name, she knew Heather recognized her. She knew curiosity had brought Heather to her.

"Of course," the women shook hands. "Last minute shopping it seems." Heather nodded her head in the direction of Lindsay and the three young girls.

Catherine introduced her daughter, and as if on cue, the Grissom girls lined up—one looking so much like Sara, and, Catherine nearly choked as she saw the "Grissom look" on the faces of the twins. "And these three girls—you will remember their father—this is Bizzy and Ava and Annie Grissom, Gil's daughters."

Without a second passing, Heather stretched her hand and shook three hands extended in turn. Catherine wanted to believe she saw something in Heather's eyes, a quick, fleeting, unidentifiable look. She had always believed there had been an event of some kind between Heather and Grissom, but whatever had happened had been long ago.

Catherine's eyes searched. "Are you with someone?" She remembered the heartbreaking death of Heather's daughter and talk of a grandchild.

"No, I'm alone. My granddaughter is spending the holidays with her grandfather's family this year. I—this is one of Allison's favorite places and I thought I'd have a few surprises when she returns."

Quickly, Catherine made a decision. "Come tomorrow—Gil would love to see you!" She wrote an address on a scrap of paper all the while Heather was shaking her head.

"I couldn't—I—it would be intruding…"

Catherine gave her the address, insisting, "Come, Heather." She waved a hand at the three girls, "and meet the two boys."

By the time the group arrived back at Greg's house, each girl carried, or dragged, a giant shopping bag filled with accessories and trappings of pretend play. Catherine took the glass handed to her as the girls opened bags.

The boys—Eli was the only boy, but Sara and Grissom knew Nick and Greg became boys at heart in the presence of a child—did not return until much later. There was explaining and excitement and commotion as everyone talked at once, go-carts were mentioned; the girls showed off their dress-up clothes and tiaras and feather and fur boas to ones who had not seen their newfound personas. As lights came on and darkness arrived, suddenly, by some secret signal, children disappeared.

"Where did they go?" Sara asked from the kitchen.

"Nick—he took everyone upstairs," was the answer. Grissom appeared in the doorway asking if she and Catherine needed help just as someone else appeared at the front door.

"Gil, your kids are never quiet—even with Nick—what's going on?" Sara asked as she prepared Will's food. Pizza had been ordered for Christmas Eve for everyone—and Sara thought "everyone else" meant the entire lab. She knew it would be hours before the house was quiet enough for sleep.

The doorbell rang again and pizzas arrived along with half a dozen friends, all from the lab. Grissom called to Nick, telling him food was on the table.

"Should I go up?" Sara asked. Her children did not miss a meal, especially one that included pizza.

Grissom yelled louder. "Nick! Eli, Bizzy! Pizza's here! What's going on up there?" They heard quiet giggling as Nick answered.

"No—don't come. We're fine. Just a few more minutes!"

The parents looked at each other knowing something was going on but at this time of year, and with Nick, they could imagine it was going to involve a surprise.

The dozen or so adults gathered and waited, making small talk, laughing as friends do with an air of expectation as more than one speculated on what was happening upstairs. Upstairs, amid a clutter of boxes, plastic bags, and paper, five children were finally dressed.

"Okay," Nick said as the last wiggly arm was pushed into a sleeve, "is everyone ready. Line up so I can check!" They did as told, giggling, squirming, and getting into a line as directed and moved by Bizzy. Nick grinned. "You all look—just amazing! Your mom is going to love this!" He blinked rapidly several times.

Bizzy was the first to break rank as she ran over to hug him—the others followed wiggling to get near, as he returned their hugs. "This is great, Uncle Nick! We really look good, don't we?" She asked.

This time, Nick had to use his fingers to wipe eyes and pinch his nose before he answered. "You do, honey. You look as sweet as you are."

Ave nudged against his knee. "Me, too? And Annie, too?"

"You all look sweet, and pretty and handsome—and ready for Santa to come. Let's go show off to everyone—there're lots of people downstairs who want to see you tonight, so remember to smile and shake hands. If you need anything, you find me, okay?"

They nodded; even Will seemed to know this was a special occasion.

"Follow me—we want everyone to see you!" Nick stood, taking Will's hand and the group left the bedroom in a single line.

_A/N: Thanks for reading, and for reviews! We thought this would be 20 chapters, which means there are 3 chapters left. However, we may break several long chapters into shorter ones and have 22-23 chapters. The family has to get back home to see the remodeled house, but a few things are happening before that! Again, thanks so much--we appreciate all the messages from you! _


	18. Chapter 18

_A/N: A long one today! Enjoy!_

**A Few Days Continued, Time in the Triangle Chapter 18**

Nick's whistle alerted everyone to their arrival at the top of the stairs and every pair of eyes looked upward. He lifted Will in his arms and the other four children waved to their parents, wide smiles across their faces that became shy giggles as they realized the rooms below were filled with quiet adults. Eli placed a pitch pipe in his mouth, blew one note and started to sing; the girls quickly joined him, singing words of a song over fifty years old.

"Here comes Santa Claus! Here comes Santa Claus! Right down Santa Claus Lane! Vixen and Blitzen and all his reindeer are pulling at the reins. Bells are ringing," and bells appeared in small hands, "children singing and all is merry and bright! Hang your stockings and say your prayers 'cause Santa Claus comes tonight." The end of the song brought on a round of giggles and Eli bent over at the waist—the girls followed his example.

Sara's hand had gone to cover her mouth as she moved near the stairs; Grissom wrapped an arm across her back as he joined her. When their song ended and everyone applauded, whistled, whooped, and called for another, the four children suddenly became bashful. With Nick's encouragement, the children came down the stairs, each dressed in identical pajamas—soft white fabric trimmed in red, printed with little Santa's wearing boots and cowboy hats and riding horses—each child wore a cowboy hat and soft boots on their feet.

Grissom took Will as he hugged each of his children, eyes going to Nick who continued to grin from ear to ear. He heard Sara's praise and approving words to each child as she expressed surprise at their "secret" and admired the matching pajamas, the hats, the boots, their song. With the promise of pizza, Greg, Catherine, and Jim got the kids to the table, made introductions to the other guests, and watched with approval as each child shook hands with the people who had known their parents for years.

Catherine noticed she was not the only woman in the group who had to press a finger against an eye while the men coughed and cleared their throats as the children made their way to the table. Everyone in the house had attended the funeral of Eli's father a few years ago. They remembered Sara arriving in Las Vegas as a very young CSI with a passion for victims and her work and, eventually, her supervisor. And the same face that had observed and worried and taught so much to all of them now looked at them from three children's faces. Quietly, often out of hearing of Sara and Grissom, they mentioned the blue eyes of four and the green eyes of one.

On Christmas Eve, they did not talk of who was not there nor of sad events of the past; instead everyone laughed, ate pizza and cupcakes, told stories of Christmas and visits from Santa, entertained and were entertained by five children. The visitors left earlier than usual for a party of adults, realizing bedtime had come and gone for tired and sleepy children—each one having found a lap or curled against a warm adult. For this one night, Sara found she was without a child—Jim and Bizzy had renewed their friendship and she was tucked against his crooked elbow, Nick and Eli seemed to be inseparable as they talked about cars and cowboys and the Alamo. Greg and Catherine swapped Ava and Annie with Catherine in an ongoing state of laughter as she listened to and watched the faces of the twins, startling clear round blue eyes growing serious as Ava told a story, identical eyebrows lifting as Annie broke in to finish the story.

A platter of cookies and candy waited near Greg's tree for Santa, and when Grissom suggested the treats include a handful of chocolate covered cashews, Sara was the only one to notice a slight lift in Bizzy's eyebrows.

Brass was the one who placed a small bottle next to the plate, saying "Santa gets milk everywhere—this will really warm his toes!"

With his comment, Bizzy looked directly at Sara, a smug little smile on her face. She knew who else warmed his toes with the same beverage.

Another hour passed before all children were "snug in their beds" as described in one of their currently favorite stories, and another hour before gifts were brought from downstairs and placed in five heaps around the tree. Nick and Greg brought in more presents, insisting "It's just little things!"

Catherine passed cups of steaming tea to everyone as the six friends and self-made family gathered; all were tired but postponing sleep to stretch this visit, to have a few more minutes, a little more time, to talk and enjoy the companionship of each other.

Grissom asked, "Where did you find the pajamas? And how did you manage to keep this a secret?" He was amazed that Nick had managed to contain a secret, even the kids singing, and he had not heard a whisper of anything.

Nick grinned. "A miracle!" He chuckled at the accomplishment. "Eli and Bizzy—those two picked the song and everyone knew it from some cartoon." Sara winced, remembering the continuous play of several songs during the past week.

"The pajamas—my sister helped with those," he continued. "We always dressed up on Christmas Eve and in a family of sisters, you can imagine what I had to endure—one year it was kittens! Kittens—and I was ten years old! The next year, I revolted and we were cowboy and cowgirls." He leaned back in his chair, a smile on his face. "I found the cowboy Santa pajamas, got my sister to order sizes based on age, and we got hats and boots today." Proudly, he bragged, "I thought they made the party!"

Sara tossed a pillow in his direction. "You did good, Nick! And tomorrow you can help get them out of those pajamas—Ava said she was wearing hers all day!"

Everyone laughed; Nick leaned forward, saying "But that's the plan—you wear Christmas pajamas all day! The one day of the year you can stay in your pjs and no one cares!"

Sara fell against Grissom, moaning; she knew he had said this to her children. The others laughed when she muttered something about "influencing my kids."

Brass stood, clearing his throat for attention. "We have one more thing to do tonight before I head to the sack. If I were a betting man, I'd bet morning comes early." He pulled a white envelope from the bookcase while everyone but Sara and Grissom smiled. "This is for you two." He made a show of holding the envelope a few seconds as Greg tapped a drum roll with his fingers.

Grissom's hands went up. "We agreed—no gifts, Jim!"

"This is not a Christmas gift."

"No, it's a surprise—a reward!" Catherine said as she grabbed the envelope from Brass and passed it to Sara. "It's something we wanted to do—open it!"

Sara slid a fingernail under the flap, tilted the slim packet and caught two tickets in her hand. She smiled as she passed the tickets to Grissom. He would not refuse this gift.

"Look inside—something else!" were Catherine's enthusiastic words.

A folded paper fell into Sara's hand and she read aloud the 'paid in full' reservations for the same date as the performance in the newest high rise hotel on the Strip. "We can't take this—it's too much!" Sara protested.

Brass, Nick, Greg and Catherine returned with a chorus of "yes, you can" and "yes, you will" insisted Catherine.

"We keep the kids here," Greg said. "We babysit while you two have a night away—and you get to hear these guys in concert." It wasn't his kind of music, he thought, but he knew Grissom was a fan.

"We can't—you can't give this to us!" declared Sara. "It's too much." She looked at Grissom who was shaking his head.

Catherine moved beside Grissom knowing he was the easier to persuade. "Go, take Sara, spend the night. We've arranged to take off—at least two of us here at all times with Greg! Free babysitters—we are better than babysitters! You two need a night—think of the room as a little gift from Sam Braun!" She saw a developing gleam in Grissom's eyes; the blue was shining brighter. She nudged him with an elbow. "Be romantic, order room service, sit on the balcony half the night." When she winked she knew he was swayed and he would convince Sara.

He said, "You should not have done this—we agreed. But I would love to see this performance." His arm went around Sara. "And I would love a little time alone, just a few hours, just to sleep." His face flushed and adults sniggered like children.

During the night, Will cried out and Grissom moved him into their bed; at some point, Ava found her way to the same bed, and before the sun was up, Annie managed to crawl in to bed with her parents. Over the years of adding children, Grissom had yet to figure out how a child found the way to his bed so easily, how one, two, even five could always find a space to sleep, and they slept soundly after doing so.

On Christmas morning, he woke to find only three little bodies tucked between he and Sara in a jumble of Santa Claus pajamas and curly blonde hair. Sara's arm draped across all three children; he propped himself with one arm and reached across to push hair away from her face with a feathery touch yet it was enough to wake her.

"Merry Christmas," he whispered. She smiled. "Can we get up without waking everyone?"

"Pillows," whispered Sara. "Maybe that will give us ten minutes."

He eased from the bed, shoving pillows against a sleeping Will and tucking covers over all three. Sara did the same before joining him in the bathroom and as Grissom reached for her, they heard a waking cry from the bed.

"Tomorrow night—we are going to that concert and we are spending the night without…" Grissom pointed to the bed and kissed her.

Sara hurried back into the bedroom but by then all three were awake, rubbing eyes in the muddle of waking. Annie was the first to point to Ava's pajamas.

"Santa Claus came!" Her whisper was one of uncertainty and awe. She scrambled from the bed, her sister and brother close behind her.

"We need to wake Bizzy and Eli," Sara said. "So everyone gets to see what Santa left." It took several minutes to get everyone up; Ava insisted on wearing her boots, Will found his hat; Bizzy and Eli were awake and ready in seconds. Sara phoned Jim and learned he was downstairs with Nick and Greg—waiting for them. Catherine and Lindsay were on their way.

"Jim probably slept in his car in the driveway," Grissom laughed. He reached for Sara kissing her in a two arm hug as their children wiggled and squirmed and giggled—wanting the same and impatient for presents.

Eli and Bizzy led the downstairs charge when they saw the gifts stacked in heaps. Santa had written names on cards and Bizzy quickly directed her sisters to their presents. Just as quickly, she counted each stack of boxes.

"We got the same number! Everyone got the same number of presents!" She said as she ran from one pile to another.

Eli waited for nothing; Ava and Annie hesitated a few seconds before running to their gifts. Eli had unwrapped a remote control car before Bizzy had reached her's.

He shouted, "I've wanted one of these all my life!" He picked up another package.

"Wait, Eli. Let the other's open one." Sara wanted the excitement to last; Bizzy was shaking each box trying to decide what to open. "Ava—select one and open it."

Grissom and the other men stood back and let the chaos began; someone handed him coffee. Sara realized she was losing her wish for order when Ava unwrapped her doll and Annie immediately found a package of similar size to open. They left other presents in a stack as they began to examine their dolls.

Sara shot a look at Nick, Greg, and Brass as she saw there were several packages in each stack she did not wrap. They tried for innocent shrugs and looks.

Eli tore paper until he could see what was in the gift and was ready to rip open the next. Bizzy waited her turn as the first gifts were opened, but seeing her brother tear into his, she joined him—getting her own remote control car in bright red. She forgot what else was under the tree as she read directions and Greg appeared with required batteries. He and Nick entered an unspoken competition to see who could have a car running first. Little Will cared more for discarded wrappings than he did his gifts. Even his father could not attract his attention long enough to actually open a present.

Full blown pandemonium greeted Catherine, Lindsay, and Lily, Catherine's mother, as they arrived, loaded with dishes and bags of food; all three looked as if they had been up for hours. Catherine was dressed in coordinating pants and shirt. Lily wore a Christmas sweater and Lindsay, who resembled her mother more each year, came in wearing jeans and a new blouse; they greeted everyone and added to the confused play. Jim and Grissom sat on the sofa drinking coffee with Will playing with wrapping paper. Greg and Nick were on the floor with Eli and Bizzy, reading directions. Bizzy was draped over Greg's shoulders while Eli sat between Nick's legs. Both held some kind of 'Blastin' Action' soft dart gun. Sara, Ava, and Annie were also on the floor, changing clothes on the new dolls.

Lindsay took Sara's place. "Thanks, Lindsay," Sara gratefully said. "I was never very good with dolls."

The three women placed food on the table. "It seems we just put food on this table!" Catherine exclaimed as cinnamon buns, bagels, muffins, yogurt, fruit bowls, and granola was set out.

By the time breakfast was eaten, all gifts were finally opened. The children discovered flashlights and magnifying glasses, building blocks and puzzles, games and toys as they unwrapped packages—and two more dart blasters for Ava and Annie who let out ear piercing screams when they discovered they had gotten the same 'guns' as their sister and brother. Greg and Bizzy won the unspoken contest when the red car rolled across the floor but Nick and Eli opened the front door and ran their big-wheeled car out the door to the sidewalk which led to everyone scrambling outside to create an obstacle course with yard decorations and finding targets for the foam darts.

Sara watched as kids ran around, the men gave directions, and Lily and Catherine laughed at the show.

"Where did my well-behaved children go?" She asked as Eli gave a yell and ran after Lindsay who chased an out of control car to the sidewalk.

"Let's get lunch ready," Lily said. "Today is all about kids and food!"

The outside doors slammed so often that Sara lost track of who was where. The other adults kept assuring her that her children were being watched; no one was going to disappear or be hurt and none of them needed to change from their pajamas. The commotion continued—inside, outside, with racing cars and dart guns, dolls and building blocks—until hunger, exhaustion, the smell of hot food, brought everyone inside and to Greg's extended dining table.

Sara, Catherine, and Lily had worked on a Christmas day meal for two days. When the men arrived at the table there were bowls and platters of marinated mushrooms, Brussels sprouts in cream sauce, bread stuffing with onions and celery, corn pudding, mashed sweet potatoes with pecan topping, potatoes with cheese and butter, a squash and apple casserole, four different salads with broccoli and cauliflower, beans and walnuts, mixed fruits, and cranberries. Against one wall, a table held enough pies and cakes for double the number of people eating; and no one asked about turkey or ham or roast beef.

Grissom stood after everyone was seated, thanking the cooks, expressing appreciation to Greg for providing his house and to the others for making the day a special one, and adding a special thanks to Santa Claus for delivering a considerable number of toys and gifts to five children. Sara managed to hide her emotions for this outpouring of generosity as she watched their friends ladle food onto their plates and those of her children. Her sigh over the appearance of those children was missed by everyone; it did not matter that no one's hair was combed, that they remained in Christmas pajamas that were grass and dirt and juice stained.

Grissom reached for her hand. "Isn't this great?" He grinned the slightly lopsided smile she loved.

"It is."

Food seemed to rejuvenate children who tried to patiently wait as adults finished meals and answered their pleas of "Can someone please come outside now?"

Greg, Lily, Lindsay, and Grissom answered the request and left others to clean up—or to sneak downstairs for a nap as Nick and Jim wanted to do. They quickly realized they would be subjects of ridicule by leaving the women to do the work.

The aprons had not been removed when a breathless Bizzy ran into the kitchen—eyes wide with excitement. "Mommy! Mommy!" They heard her before she arrived in the doorway. "Mommy! There's a woman kissing Daddy! In the front yard!"

Sara looked from daughter to Nick and back to Bizzy, a puzzled frown on her face.

_A/N: Thanks for reading! (and reviewing!!)_


	19. Chapter 19

**A Few Days Continued, Time in the Triangle Chapter 19**

A fast second passed before Bizzy grabbed her mother's hand. "Come! It's the woman from the store!" She tugged at her mother's hand, pulling her along as Sara continued to look perplexed until she glanced at Catherine who was right behind her.

"Heather!" Catherine whispered, "I forgot all about seeing her—I told her you were in town—here." She shrugged and made a smiling grimace.

Brass was close behind the two women. He had never understood the attraction but remembered well finding Grissom at Heather's home. He was certain…he wanted to see this; he chuckled.

Bizzy stopped so abruptly once she opened the door that Sara tumbled against her; Catherine, Brass and Nick bumped into each other in a domino effect. All of them recognized Heather Kessler standing in Greg's front yard holding Will. Ava and Annie had a tight grasp on their dad's shirt; little hands were knotted into the hem of his shirt. Eli stood to one side holding a car and a dart gun—eyes as wide as Bizzy's had been—with a look of bewilderment on his face. She bit her lip to keep laughter from bubbling to the surface.

Bizzy ran to her dad's side with Sara following. She purposely stepped between Grissom and Heather and said, "That's my baby brother you're holding." She turned slightly throwing an arm toward Sara. "That's my mom, too." She stepped back against her dad as Sara came to greet Heather.

It had been years since Sara had seen Heather yet she knew Grissom talked to her twice a year. Heather looked much the same—except today she wore jeans and a simple pullover, hair pulled back, and had none of the appearance of her former profession. She held Will as she laughed at something Grissom said before seeing Sara and the others.

Sara said, "Welcome, Heather!" She took the offered hand as Grissom reached for Will. Eli moved beside his mother.

Heather responded with an appropriate greeting, adding, "I brought these." She held up a large bag from a well-known bakery. "Children love their cupcakes." She smiled at the four standing around Grissom and Sara but all she got in return were somber and serious stares. Bizzy had worked one hand into her father's hand and the other into her mom's.

Brass and Catherine remained on the porch; glances at each other caused a snicker in both. Brass whispered, "Did you see that? Remind you of anyone?" He passed a hand across his face. "I've heard of protecting the cubs, but…"

Catherine snorted into her fist. "This might get interesting." She left the porch and went to greet Heather.

Surprising Brass, Heather was an excellent guest with an ability to talk about everyday matters, ideas, and views. Catherine and Sara found it easy to converse with her about daughters. Nick and Greg watched and listened, both somewhat overcome by being in the same room with a legend in their minds.

The Grissom children displayed an unusual shyness combined with a protective instinct for both parents. Will was the only child willing to go with Lindsay and Lily; the others remained near Sara and stayed close to Grissom—sitting in his lap, edging against his arm until he wrapped one around the child. He and Sara passed smiles between them several times. Even the cupcakes, fancy with decorated frosting, did not entice the kids away from their parents or from their behavior even though they eventually ate the little cakes.

While no one mentioned their behavior, all the adults observed the strange, protecting conduct. Even Greg was unable to make suggestions to pull the four children away from their parents—they were quiet, they were polite, but they refused to leave their parents. Gradually, Sara persuaded her children to follow her outside leaving Heather and Grissom to talk. Brass and Nick had disappeared downstairs; Catherine had followed Lindsay to the patio where Will was busy playing with blocks. Bizzy was the last to leave her father.

Once outside, the child whispered to her mother, "I don't like that lady." Her expression was one of such serious concern that Sara knew she wanted to say more.

"Why don't you like her?"

Bizzy squirmed, toying with the foam dart in her hand. "She kissed Daddy."

"That's okay—Aunt Catherine kisses Daddy and you like her."

A perplexed look came as a response. Sara sat on the step and motioned for Bizzy to sit beside her.

Sara wrapped an arm around her daughter. This was genetic, she thought, that jealous gene. "Your dad has known Heather a long time. Once when a sad thing happened to her, he helped her, and once when your dad had a problem, Heather helped him. So, it's okay that she kissed him—it's been a long time since they've seen each other." She kissed the top of her daughter's head. "You know your dad loves all of us very much." Bizzy nodded. "And you know you are very special to your dad, don't you?"

Bizzy smiled. She knew she was special to her dad. He loved Ava and Annie, but for a reason she could not name, she knew there was a unique bond between her and her dad.

Sara continued, "Your sisters and brothers look to you as their leader—they follow your example, so when you are polite, they are too. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

The little girl nodded her head. "But I don't like her kissing Daddy."

Sara laughed, thinking of the similar thoughts she had for years about any woman around Grissom. "Sweetheart, it's okay to kiss someone you haven't seen in a long time—just like Aunt Catherine kisses us and Uncle Greg and Uncle Nick kiss us." For several moments Sara let what she said be processed by Bizzy, unsure what else she should say. "Heather is a very beautiful woman, isn't she?"

The face that turned up to her was almost a mirror image of her own. Bizzy's little mouth made a down turn just as Sara's did; it was difficult not to smile at the serious look on the child's face.

"Is it okay if I just pretend to like her?" Bizzy asked.

"Yes." Sara hugged her, kissed her again, saying "Let's play with your car—you can show me how to drive it."

As Heather left, Sara's oldest daughter was the first to extend a hand as she thanked Heather for the cupcakes. Ava and Annie did the same; neither smiled until they were elbowed by their sister. All four children closely followed as their father walked with Heather to her car.

Catherine and Brass watched from the porch. Brass said, "That was interesting."

Sara turned in time to hear his words. She smiled, then suppressed a giggle as Catherine hid her smile behind her hand. Sara whispered, "I've never seen that happen—little green eyed monsters!"

Brass threw up both hands, chuckling as he turned. He and Nick had already had a great discussion about Heather's visit that included a few chuckles from remembering the past.

By bedtime, which arrived earlier than usual, a plan had been put in place and explained to the children—they were to have a "little vacation" without their parents in Greg's house with all the toys. They could play in their pajamas all day; they could order pizza, but they must be on their best behaviors. By noon of the next day, they were excited about this extra "holiday" and ready for their parents to leave.

Grissom had exhibited a certain calm, composed exterior when he was as excited and energized as his kids for different reasons. After Heather's departure, they had all had a good laugh about the reaction of the children, especially the girls, to their visitor. It had tickled Sara more than she admitted to see a jealous response from her daughters—almost animal-like as they had "staked their territory." As she explained her observations, she noticed Nick and Greg trying to suppress their laughter which caused more snickers and giggles from everyone until their laughter became almost hysterical, more than one person snorting and wiping eyes. Tension and nervousness finally released; Catherine thought the laughter came from a decade or more of apprehension and feelings for the unspoken, mysterious relationship between Grissom and Heather. What they had witnessed today, and been an active part of, was a sincere, relaxed re-acquaintance of old friends who had found an odd friendship in turbulent times.

Those same adults were the ones who would care for the children for twenty-four hours, insisting everyone would be fine, the children would be well-cared for and happy. Catherine and Greg would stay until Sara and Grissom returned; Brass and Nick would rotate in and out. Even Mandy, Wendy, Greg's girlfriend and Doc Robbins had offered to help.

"They won't miss you!" Greg said.

Catherine insisted, "We are going to have fun!"

Brass added, "Go, stay away for twenty-four hours—enjoy the concert!"

"And the hotel—it's been open a few weeks," said Nick. He added, "And if you should have a problem, just name drop." He pointed to Catherine. As Sam Braun's primary shareholder, everyone on the Strip knew Catherine's name and her status.

Sara and Grissom kissed each child, requested a promise of good behavior until they returned. There was more distress on Sara's face than on her children's—they immediately turned to Greg to play as their parents backed out of the driveway in Greg's car.

"They will be fine," Grissom insisted. He reached for Sara's hand. Twenty-four hours alone—he could not remember when they had spent twenty-four hours without interruptions from a child.

"This is nice—nice of Catherine to arrange this." Sara sunk against the leather seat of the car. It still smelled new, she thought. Another luxury item Greg had purchased with the success of his second or third book.

Grissom's soft voice broke into her thoughts. "Where to, dear? We have twenty-four hours before our coach turns into a pumpkin—we can check in, go shopping, walk the Strip—you name it."

She gave him a sly grin. "Check in, then shop—I need a few things."

His smile was one of obvious satisfaction. "If we go to the room, I'm afraid I'll never let you leave—all I need is wrapped up in you." He brought her hand to his lips. There were no giggles from the back seat.

The crescent shaped room took their breath even at mid-afternoon with floor to ceiling windows that provided a 180 degree view of the Strip, the sprawling urban oasis, and the distant mountains. The cloudless blue dome of the sky met the reds, oranges, dark blues and silver of the mountains creating an intensity of colors that made both replace their sunshades.

The concierge disappeared with their luggage, returning to demonstrate the remote controlled drapes, the doors to the balconies, the television that disappeared behind a painting, opening the complimentary bar, explaining room service at the touch of a key pad. As soon as he left the room, Sara explored. Grissom watched and followed her as she touched surfaces with one hand—the shiny surfaces of the wood, the fabrics of each chair, the soft comforter on the bed in the center of the room. She entered the bathroom and called his name.

"Gil! You won't believe this!"

He found her standing in the middle of the room, hands in her pockets. The room was divided into three areas—where she stood was a dressing area with double sinks, a huge bouquet of fresh flowers between the brightly colored ceramic bowls. One side was an obvious "lady's" room with a long vanity, a slipper tub, a fancy commode with a built in bidet, and towels in soft beige and pale pink. The other side was definitely masculine—a steam shower large enough for the entire family, a similar commode, and a urinal; towels were darker colors in browns and blues.

"A urinal!" He said. "We should have put one in our bathroom!"

"Who will open all the soap?" Sara laughingly asked. "I feel like our kids—the entire suite needs to be explored!" He turned, laughing at her words until he saw her.

Sara stood in the middle of the bathroom; light from the windows profiled her silhouette. Some memory was triggered into action—he remembered a very young woman in a different place, a different time and he could recall with certainty the way she stood, the way her hair moved, and he saw the same woman. All those years ago, he had known that day he loved her; it had taken him much longer to do something about his feelings.

He whispered her name, "Sara."

She turned.

"I've loved you forever," he whispered. She smiled the broad face changing grin he loved and held out her arms.

_A/N: Here's another chapter! Thanks for reading and especially thanks for your reviews--we love your comments! _


	20. Chapter 20

_A/N: This is a short chapter, but a few requests for a fast update equals a short chapter. Sweet smut alert!! _

**A Few Days Continued, Time in the Triangle Chapter 20**

When he looked at Sara, which he did more frequently than she would acknowledge, she could look at him with a tantalizing clarity that loving him had given her. Once she had called him a golden Ra—a sun god—making life possible. He had laughed saying he was too technical, too restless, to be anyone's god. Yet, she knew him for who he was and loved him anyway.

After so many years together, they had few secrets between them—more likely words forgotten or considered unimportant than actual secrets. He had loved Sara for years, tried to share his love of her with another until he realized the other did not matter if he did not have her.

Her arms received him, followed by kisses and passion, a degree of starvation that neither had gauged. She wanted him to touch her, to bare her body, to take it in all those sensations of ecstasy. Somehow, they found the bed, dropping or flinging clothes across the pristine landscape of the room. Covers were pushed back as Grissom managed to lower Sara to the bed—one of those expensive fluffy beds with silky sheets.

"Oh," she whispered as she stretched across the bed. "I love…" He covered her mouth with his. A groan escaped his chest—he was afraid her statement of love might be for the sheets or the bed or the room. As her hands slipped around his neck, her face buried against his ear, he heard her words, "I love you, Gil Grissom."

They did not hurry but spent long minutes rediscovering the subtle nuances in feelings, both physical and emotional, pushed aside but not forgotten from lack of privacy and intimacy, from all too frequent interruptions. He spent time tracing a sprinkling for freckles along her shoulder, following his fingers with kisses from the hollow of her throat to the scar across her abdomen where he stopped, spreading his hand across her belly. She shivered.

"Are you cold?" He asked as he reached for the sheet.

Her answer was to roll to be above him. "I am never cold when I'm with you." She held his face in her hands, running fingers through his hair. "I've loved you for so long—it's difficult to remember when I did not love you," she whispered. "You know me and you love me, Gil, as no one else will ever do." She kissed him, passionately, with an excitement and fervor of feelings that reached inside him.

His hands had moved along her spine, gently massaging her skin as he felt the swell that lifted at its base. His fingers explored the cleft of her buttocks; he held her as he shifted, rolling to be above her. His knee nudged against her inner thighs as his hand sought the feminine triangle of his desire. As he was, she was ready for him, a warm, welcoming moisture meeting his hand, moving to align with him, to bring him into her.

"Sara." He breathed her name against her neck, capturing what he had always called "Sara's fragrance" as he breathed again. He was inside her; a delicious, overwhelming and inexpressible emotion flooded his brain. He rose in fluid undulating movements above her, a rhythm she quickly followed. In minutes, he was lost, all conscious thought process leaving his brain except for one—to have this woman, to claim her as his—and in a few minutes, he did, collapsing on her as he panted, sweat drenched, seeking her lips.

"Sara, I love you! That's not nearly as romantic as a poem, but I mean it just as much."

She smiled, turning her face, flushed with passion, to his. "And I love you," she leaned to kiss him fiercely, then lay back against a pillow.

He kissed her again, and again. This was life with Sara; peace and passion, complete communion, being beside her each day, seeing the delight in her eyes, missing her when she wasn't around. His hand played along her body, making light circles with his fingers, finding that sensitive area between her chest and the rise of her breast. When he touched her there, some invisible filament seemed to move her hips; she rolled and wrapped her leg over his hips, opening again to him. He slid beneath the sheet.

This time, it was his pleasure to give her passion as he gently touched, blew warm air against the most sensitive cells of her body. His fingers found that place of passion, one that is often mentioned, searched for by many and found by few. He heard her gasp and felt her tighten against his fingers. His own body responded to her, a need so powerful that all other concerns paled.

As Sara fell into that whirlpool of passion, a buoyant, graceful fall into a luminous pool, Grissom experienced the crashing of waves, the collision of fluid with firmness in a noiseless world. As the waves gently ceased, he felt fingers in his hair, warm breath against his cheek. Whispered words of love.

_A/N: Okay, let me hear from you!! We are looking at 24 chapters, perhaps 25, before this long one ends! Enjoy! _


	21. Chapter 21

**A Few Days Continued Time in the Triangle Chapter 21**

They had dozed in the afternoon, warmed by the nearness of each other, the quiet room, and the consciousness of satisfaction. The sun was setting by the time they woke—an amazing spectacle of nature without the need of neon. The incredible colors of the desert swept across the plateau to the western mountain range, turning shapes from muted shades to brilliant pinks, scarlet reds, and burgundy purples. Man-made lights twinkled and brightened as the sun disappeared, but the sky remained streaked with colors of twilight.

Sara called Catherine to hear that all was well; everyone was happy, not to worry. Grissom found juice and energy bars in the room's refrigerator and fed her bites as they rushed to bathe and dress and order dinner for afterwards.

Sara tried to sweep her hair into some style other than a pony tail." Leave it," he said, so she did.

They wore black—the color of easy dressing or to disguise all faults, to erase social barriers or to admit wardrobe shortage, Sara was never sure. When she thought they were ready, Grissom pulled her once again to the balcony.

"To see the Strip," he said. Instead, he pulled a small box from his pocket and Sara saw nothing else but his intense blue eyes as he opened the box and carefully unwrapped a necklace.

She knew she made some sound because air left her lungs. Five stones shaped in a lazy 'S' sparkled with fire only real diamonds can create. "Oh, Gil." She must have said the words because he smiled as he reached around her neck.

"One for each."

Her fingers felt each stone. "Oh, Gil, we said the house was our gift—this is…"

"Something I should have done years ago!" He kissed her forehead, her nose, her lips. "Come, we don't want to be late!"

They did make it to the concert entering the smallest theater on the Strip just as lights dimmed the first time to find their reserved seating—excellent second tier seats and greatly superior to the usual narrow bucket chairs of the super sized auditoriums where audiences of several thousand saw the latest, greatest entertainment acts.

Tonight's concert was for several hundred people; the group of brothers had been performing together nearly all their lives. Their music provoked, entertained and excited the audience as the brothers played together and in solo. The cultural mix of instrumentation used percussion and keyboards and horns with vocals that moved from harmony to a pleading, velvet heartbreaking solo. It was a blend of ballads, jazz, and reggae with one of the brother's high falsetto adding classical songs to their performance.

The crowd was standing, many singing the well-known words of a favorite song, by the end of the concert. Sara knew the words as did her children—her head rested on Grissom's shoulder as the crowd thundered applause for another song.

They returned to the room where maid-service had cleaned and made the bed and a touch of the room service key pad brought their previously ordered dinner to the room. The waiter arranged a table with candles and elaborate silverware and dinner plates on the balcony, providing service a' la russe for the multiple courses. The couple had no time for long conversation as their fruit plate was replaced with clear soup. A salad of cucumbers, mushrooms, avocadoes, and olives was followed by asparagus and leeks baked in a pastry shell. A plate of vegetables—potatoes, beans, squash, artichokes and greens—was placed before each, preceding another salad of lettuces, tomatoes and walnuts. The end of the meal was a sweet lime and raspberry desert pudding with dried and crystallized fruits and bonbons and warm buttered biscuits with a variety of cheeses. Each plate had brought words of pleasure and marvel at the preparation and presentation. And when the waiter—whose skill ranked among those of award winning chefs—cleared the table, poured requested drinks, he disappeared as quickly as he had arrived.

Grissom and Sara continued to sit on the balcony, satisfied, contented, and extremely delighted with this unexpected gift of luxury.

"Do you remember how we usually visited rooms like this one," she asked.

"I do. We never got to see the fun side of Vegas—the real reasons why people come here." They had moved to the chaise lounge. "I'm getting one of these," he laughed as he shifted to make room for her.

"You need one a little larger."

He chuckled. "Are you gaining weight?" He knew she had not gained weight except in pregnancy and with five kids to follow, it wasn't likely she would do so soon.

"We'll have more than us sitting in a chair," she laughed. "I do miss them, their noise." She kept laughing. "I can only imagine Catherine trying to bathe and shampoo all that hair tonight."

"Bizzy will take charge, I'm confident. And what she doesn't do, Eli will."

Sara fingered the stones on her necklace. "Should we take Eli to the cemetery? I'm never sure what to do."

"We'll go tomorrow—Nick wants to go; take flowers. Catherine goes alone." They were silent as their thoughts returned to Warrick Brown. "Many times, I've thought about Warrick's death as the catalyst that made me do something." Grissom's voice was low, husky with emotion. "I'm not sure I would have had the courage to come to you…"

Her hand slipped inside his shirt. "We would not have Eli."

Quietness came again; the midnight sounds of traffic far below their balcony as they considered the effects of events that changed lives, taking away and adding of so much.

As night deepened, the hushed noise of tourists lessened but never stilled in the city that never sleeps. Their talk came in bursts or single thoughts or quiet laughter with periods of comfortable silence. Long after midnight, one suggested the bed would be better for sleeping; Grissom added, "and other things".

Sara protested the amount of food he ordered as he tapped a request for breakfast into the little screen. "I never get breakfast in bed," he complained when she patted his stomach, "unless it is cereal and jelly smeared." He smirked, lifting an eyebrow. "And I can sleep naked, too."

Sara snorted a laugh as he threw his pants in the direction of the closet, followed by his boxers. He was, he confessed, a horny old man with lecherous desires for the woman he loved, in an atmosphere that provided seclusion and discretion. He crawled into bed wearing nothing but his white tee shirt.

"Take those off," he instructed as he waved a hand in her direction. "I want to feel you—just you!" He pulled his shirt off. Her pants and shirt ended up in a puddle around her feet and as she went to unhook her bra, he grinned, "I'll take care of those."

She slid between the sheets as his hands sought her. She joked, "I really wanted a bath in that tub!"

"In the morning—before we leave—you can have your bath. I need to tell you something else, too. Later." His mouth found the top of her panties seconds after he released her bra and tossed it. "I love these," he muttered.

Sara giggled. He loved removing the panties was what he meant, she thought. Her one extravagance was finding undergarments just for his pleasure. He knew the bits of silky fabric and lace in exotic colors were for him. Of course, he didn't stop at just "removing" her panties; he played, gave her pleasure, sought gratification in the male to female dance of leisurely desire. And when she thought she could not take another second of the intimate, intense stimulation, when she moaned and called his name in ecstasy, knowing she was reaching her peak of desire, he moved, wrapping arms around her, covering her body with his as he plunged, pulled by her craving into the warm fluid filled part of her that belonged to him.

He said her name in a wisp of air as every nerve in his body fired in one direction, as her body rose to meet his, neither having to think of words or actions as they bonded, seamlessly, appearing as one in the bed they shared. Afterwards, he held her whispering simple words of couples, content with fulfilled passion, before she fell asleep. He followed her within minutes, comfortable with legs entangled and arms holding each other.

_A/N: Thanks for reading! Enjoy a little bit of GSR before returning to kids and friends!! _


	22. Chapter 22

**A Few Days Continued Time in the Triangle Chapter 22**

Grissom woke to the smell of coffee and muted light—the room's window coverings had been closed except for an opening to the balcony. He could see a silhouette of a familiar form standing outside, a cup in her hand. He stretched and groaned before smiling as he thought about what they had done during the night. The aches he felt were more the result of sound peaceful sleep in one spot that a result of that activity. Sara heard him and turned, smiling as she came back to the bed.

"Good morning," she leaned to kiss him, tasting of coffee and smelling of early morning air. She wore his shirt and nothing else. "Coffee?" She asked.

"You," he answered, stretching again, attempting to loosen stiff joints, hearing a pop as he flexed his knee.

She sat beside him. "Breakfast in an hour." She twirled a finger. "Roll over."

He grinned and rolled. Her warm hands touched his shoulders, fingers beginning a gentle massage. He groaned again as she straddled his hips. This would not end as usual, he chuckled at the thought. Usual meant little warm bodies jumping into bed that became a tickle-fest. Not today, he smiled and moaned a few satisfied words. Sara fingers continued moving along his spine before she opened her palms against his back working circles with her hands as she moved her fingers. He attempted to turn but her knees locked against his hips.

"Not yet," she whispered. "Relax."

Her hands worked warming his skin and muscles as she kneaded and pressed hands against his body. As she worked he became increasingly aware of heat generated in another part of his body as well as hers. She leaned forward, moving his arms above his head, the soft fabric of the shirt she wore brushed his sides as her body gently folded along his back until her lips touched his ear, a feathery stroke of her tongue was all it took for him to roll. He was beside her, seeing her playful dark brown eyes returning his gaze.

"My dear sweet Sara," he whispered.

Grissom got breakfast in bed. Sara dived under covers searching for the lost shirt when room service signaled the arrival of their food. "Oh! Where're my clothes?" She scrambled underneath covers while Grissom tried to adjust the same to cover himself.

He caught an arm. "Just cover up—room service never looks!"

She barely had time to tuck the sheet around her before the waiter rolled two carts to the bedside. The man kept his eyes on the food as he lifted silver domes and placed cold foods on a tray, arranged hot items on plates, and poured coffee and juice. He smiled but never met their eyes as he sat two bed trays across their legs.

"Anything else, sir?" The waiter asked as he placed the coffee pot back on the cart. He did look at Grissom to get a response.

"No, everything's perfect." Grissom nodded and the man disappeared.

Eventually, Sara got her bath after they ate breakfast, after they sat on the balcony wearing soft as cashmere robes Grissom insisted were new because tags were still attached.

He said, "I'm buying these just to remind me of this night!" He pulled the sash on Sara's. "And yours—every time we wear them, I'll remember last night." His hand slipped inside her robe.

Her soft laughter joined his. "Yeah, and both will become dress-up clothes and you will keep wearing your boxers every morning."

Grissom joined her in the bathroom, pulling a stool from the dressing table, watching as she reclined in a bubbled filled tub. He held her necklace in his fingers.

"Sara—I—there's something I've done and I didn't tell you about," he said, his eyes on the floor, his hands nervously threading the gold chain through his fingers.

"Is this from last night? What you wanted to say later?" She continued to recline but her eyes opened. "What have you done?" She could not imagine what he could be referring to—for six months they had been in such close contact that whatever he had done could not be much.

His words rushed, "I sold my mother's gallery—her partner made an offer three or four months ago. I—I decided to take it, put some of the money into the house." With this, he looked at her. "I—I made some changes on the plans—I think you will like what's been done."

Sara smiled. He worried too much, she thought. "Gil, that was your mother's place—for you to do with as you wished." She sat up in the tub, blowing bubbly foam away from her chin. "However, should I be concerned about our house? You didn't really change it up, did you?"

Clearing his throat, he said, "I added a few things—upgrades, the contractor said. And—ah—a few other things." He grinned. "Sister Deborah has approved everything. She says you will love it."

Sara stretched back into the tub. "Swing on the porch? A bathroom just for us? A place for a big table?"

Grissom chuckled. "All that plus a little more." He loved her because she asked for so little to be completely happy. He was sure they could live in a two room tent and she would be content as long as her kids were laughing.

"I love you, Gil." She lifted herself out of the tub and reached for a towel. "I don't say that enough." He wrapped a towel around her. "Take a shower with me." She swiped his nose leaving a trace of bubbles as she bounced across the floor leaving foot puddles in her wake.

…The front of the house appeared exactly the same as they had left it—gaudy Christmas decorations spread across the lawn appeared to be slightly worse for wear than several days ago. No one was in the front yard but three vehicles were in the driveway.

"Looks like the crew decided to stay." Grissom pointed to the cars belonging to Nick, Catherine, and Brass.

The house was quiet and empty. The two glanced at each other before dropping bags and heading in the direction of noise.

"Oh, my," Sara heaved a sigh as she watched from the window. "That's our kids out there."

Grissom removed his glasses. "What on earth are they doing? And what are they wearing?"

Catherine sat on a piece of firewood surrounded by five children and a sheet stretched between makeshift poles. Across the yard, Brass, Nick and Greg were sprawled out, lying flat on the grass, surrounded by more firewood. Scattered about were plastic dinosaurs, a couple of stuffed animals, dolls, a toy truck. The children were engaged in purposeful play of some kind but what got Sara's attention was the garb they wore. Each one was dressed in a loose fitting fringed shift, and depending on height, it reached the ground on Will and knees on Eli. Will quickly turned to face the house; his face was painted with stripes of red, blue, and black. Everyone had a foam dart gun—even Jim and Catherine.

"They are Indians." Sara said as the realization hit both at once.

Grissom pointed to the three men on the ground. "And they are the cowboys." They watched as Bizzy and Ava ran in circles between Catherine and the men. Eli was running in a larger circle heading behind the men; Greg rose up and fired a dart toward Eli who dodged it. Ava picked up the dart, letting out a yell before returning to Catherine.

"Catherine's holding the ammo," Grissom said, motioning toward a stack of darts at Catherine's feet.

They watched as the play continued and just as Nick shot his last dart, Annie ran to the firewood "fort" with a hand full of darts, re-supplying the three "cowboys".

"Do you think Catherine ever played this with Lindsay?" Sara asked.

Grissom answered, "No, definitely not. This is Nick's idea." He laughed quietly. "I'm not sure how Jim got into this—or Catherine."

Sara was laughing as she saw Brass fire his dart loaded blaster. "I think it's time for the cavalry to rescue those poor guys!"

Even more excitement ensued when Sara and Grissom walked into the back yard. Three Indian princesses, dressed in pillowcases with pink and purple painted faces, and two boys, an Indian chief and his toddler assistant, wrapped arms around their parents, all talking at once. The four adults brushed grass from their clothes, laughed about getting rescued, and gathered play things from the yard.

"We had to get more guns," someone said.

"And we used all Aunt Catherine's pillowcases to look like Indians!"

"We got dinosaurs, too."

"Uncle Greg says we can take all of this with us!"

Will babbled along with his sisters and brother; everyone telling some part of their past twenty-four hours of a special holiday. Later, after the excitement and enthusiasm had calmed, Brass pretended to nap with Will in a recliner. Catherine's inspection of Sara's new necklace brought words of approval. Nick, Sara and Grissom quietly made plans for another visit, hoping to leave the twins and Will with Greg and Catherine while they visited the cemetery where Warrick Brown was buried.

The life and death of Eli's father had been explained to Eli as a childhood story, simply and truthfully in terms a child could understand. He knew the truth about his mother in uncomplicated terms and he did not question his life, not yet. The family had been to other cemeteries—where Grissom's mother and father were buried, where Sara's mother was buried. The children had no association of sadness or fear or heartbreak with any cemetery; it was more fascination and curiosity of a park like place.

Everyone ended up going. Even Catherine who usually went alone rode with Sara, Greg, and the girls.

_A/N: Thanks for reading and we DO appreciate your comments and reviews! We are trying to re-write to have only 3 more chapters. Thanks again!_


	23. Chapter 23

**A Few Days Continued Time in the Triangle Chapter 23**

"How often do you visit?" Sara asked.

"Once a month now. For a while, I was out here every week—I guess I wasn't ready to let him go."

"I'm sorry, Catherine."

She sighed, a deep, sad expression. "I had always moved on, even with Eddie. But with Warrick—I guess it was more of what I didn't do. I never approved of his marriage; he knew that. I didn't know about Eli; he never shared that. I realized how much we had grown apart when he died and it was difficult to move pass that."

The small cemetery next to the red brick church was a place no different from many others, yet misplaced in Las Vegas, more suited to another time in another place. Trees had been planted around the area providing shade to the edge and a short brick fence surrounded the grounds. Someone, or some group, took extra efforts to keep the cemetery neat—flowers were growing along the fence, benches had been placed along white stone paths, and grass was trimmed around headstones set in some random pattern, all facing east. The tombstones were old fashioned monuments which set this graveyard apart from so many with nearly identical squares for each grave. These markers were all different, some small and simple, others very ornate. Some had nothing but a name and two dates. A few were elaborately designed with symbols of death or dying, or professions and occupations. There were stones carved with angels, crosses, birds, flowers, even trees, but the grave they were visiting was one marked by golden red Nevada sandstone, engraved with a name, a profession, dates of birth and death, and one word. A small metal law enforcement badge was set into the center of the stone.

Grissom opened the small gate, one designed to let people walk into the cemetery instead of opening a larger gate used for hearses. The children ran ahead of him veering off the path to inspect a stone angel no taller than any of them. Greg and Sara followed the children while the others found the grave of Warrick Brown.

A collective heartrending sadness seemed to form around the group as Grissom bent to place flowers he carried and leaned to touch the name.

Nick cleared his throat, and looking at no one, said, "I never thought it would end this way. I still wake up thinking 'I've got to tell him this' before I remember."

Catherine turned, watching the children play around tombstones, watching Sara and Greg talk as they walked among the graves.

"There were only two."

Nick, Catherine, and Brass looked down at Grissom, his finger tracing Warrick's name.

Catherine asked, "Your first was Holly?"

"Yeah," he stood. "Funny how things work, isn't it? Her death brought Sara to me. Warrick's took me to Sara." He walked toward the kids and Sara.

The three looked at one another before following him with their eyes. None said a word as they watched him talk to Sara, calling Eli to him. They watched as the two walked back to the grave, the boy's hand in Grissom's, and stopped at the marker. The adults looked away or dropped their heads as Grissom whispered something to Eli.

"It says 'Peace' right here." Eli pointed to the word engraved across the top. "And this means he was a policeman." His finger touched the inlaid metal emblem.

Grissom said, "It does—and his real badge is at home, in a box for you."

The little boy grinned as he looked around the cemetery and back at Grissom. "This is a nice place." He reached for Nick's hand. "I'm glad you are my friends."

Noise interrupted the quietness that surrounded the child and the adults with the sound of little girls' voices.

"Eli!" Bizzy called. "We found a marker with a truck on it!"

"Come see!" One of the twins added.

Eli looked at Grissom, "Can I go, Dad?"

"Sure."

The next day, they left, much later than planned, or so Sara thought. They would spend one more night away from their home after an absence of months. The van was packed and stuffed with favorite toys for each child; not surprising to anyone was the foam dart guns being a "favorite" for all five. Greg and Catherine promised to pack everything else—the dinosaurs, the cooking sets, the blocks and action figures, and the dress-up clothes, including the pillowcases turned into fringed shirts.

Sara whispered to Greg, "You can keep anything you like!"

…Three hours from home, Grissom pulled into a road side motel.

"We could keep driving," Sara said. "Just stop to eat."

Grissom shook his head. "No," he replied. "We won't push it—we want to get home in the sunshine." He had a plan which was to arrive before lunch—and others were preparing for their arrival.

Sara was more anxious than she appeared. She had seen photographs of the house during the past months until six weeks ago when the pictures stopped coming. Now she realized this coincided with Grissom's change in plans. She cut apples and passed pieces to each child. There was no need to buy food for dinner; Greg and Catherine had been overly generous when they packed food for them. Grissom spread almond butter on bread. Sara smiled—he was an excellent sandwich maker.

He glanced up. "I know you're worried," he said with a chuckle. "It's going to be fine—I know you'll be surprised."

"I trust you." She smiled. A sudden impulse caused her to lean across the picnic table they had found in a park. She combed her hand through his hair—much whiter now than it had been a few years ago. Her fingers caressed his cheek. "I love you," she said right before she kissed him. They heard the giggles of five children as their dad reached to hold their mother in a longer kiss.

_A/N: Thanks for reading! LOTS of readers, so leave us a few words before we post the last two chapters! Let us know who you are! Thanks..._


	24. Chapter 24

**A Few Days Continued Time in the Triangle Chapter 24**

…Giant swaths of land had been overtaken by residential developments in the years since Sara had first traveled this route. Her mother had turned to religion, chosen to live with a religious order of nuns on a rural farm. Only later did Sara learn the nuns had chosen Laura Sidle, seeing a woman in need who needed to live in peace and harmony, and a person with something to give in return. It had been difficult for Sara to accept her mother's decision until a time came when she needed a quiet retreat and the nuns had provided what she needed.

After she and Grissom married and needed a home, knowing they would have a family, Grissom had purchased the adjoining land and small house. They became neighbors, and they were family. As the children arrived, the nuns and devout visitors, often lonely and struggling women like Sara's mother, had become as close as mothers and daughters and sisters.

They turned onto the paved farm road for the last few miles of their journey. This section of the state had not changed. Protected and preserved lands surrounded the area—a state park, a nature preserve, and federal forests bordered the land owned by the Grissom's and across the highway, the nuns religious order owned several hundred acres. Most of the land remained as wildlife habitat with the exception of several acres around their house. The farm operated by the nuns remained much the same—a barn with a collection of cows, goats, a horse, several sheep, and a family of cats, fruit trees, a large garden that provided a source of fresh vegetables for them and their neighbors.

All of this waited for Sara and Grissom—their neighbors, a large dog, and a remodeled house.

"Will Hank remember us?" Bizzy called from the back seat. She and Eli were watching a favorite movie with growing excitement of knowing a journey was nearly over.

Grissom glanced in the rearview mirror. "I'm sure he will. He has a good memory." The nearer to home they got, the more his hands moved on the steering wheel or against his leg drumming a rhythm with his fingers, so noticeable that Sara spoke.

"Okay, get it out. What have you done?" She laughed as she closed her eyes. Up at dawn with three children, she had left Grissom, Eli and Bizzy asleep while she went in search of breakfast, taking the youngest ones with her. In a diner, they had managed to eat, play and entertain early morning customers for over an hour, returning to find the others just waking up. The younger children napped in their car seats.

"I made more than a few changes, Sara."

She reached for his hand. "I'm sure it's fine. Our home is wherever we are, Gil. I am sure I will love anything you decided." She chuckled. "As long as we get a bigger bathroom."

He nodded. "You get that." He grinned. "You get a few other things too. Call Sister Deborah and tell her we will be there in twenty minutes."

It actually took two minutes longer for them to turn into the driveway to the neighboring farm. Sara knew the same rural mailbox had stood at the end of the gravel driveway for a decade or longer. Tall grass practically swept the sides of the van as they drove over a slight rise before seeing the buildings and gardens of the farm. A dozen women were in the yard, waiting. As soon as the vehicle stopped, doors were opened and helping hands unbuckled children as excited voices welcomed everyone. They were home—almost.

"You've grown a foot!" Sara heard one of the women say to Ava and Annie. Another said, "Oh, Will, you are a little boy now!" "Eli! Look at you—with new front teeth!"

And Sister Deborah had Bizzy in a hug, holding the little girl close to her chest. "I've missed all of you every day!" Sara watched her oldest daughter reach for the chain around her neck showing the nun the medal given to her in New Orleans by another nun.

There was much talking, hugging, kissing, and excitement as children instantly knew they were home and with familiar friends. Eli and Grissom were hugging the dog whose tail was in constant movement.

"He remembers me!" Eli exclaimed as the dog licked his hand.

Inside the house, lunch preparations were well underway and stopped only for their arrival. In a few minutes, several women took the children and headed to the barn—a new calf, a family of kittens, and a lamb provided prospects for entertainment.

Sister Deborah, in her usual well-organized role as community leader, handed Grissom keys. "Go home. We'll bring the kids later. There's food in your kitchen." Sara hesitated until she realized a plan was in place.

Their house had been suitable for a small family but, as the family grew, they added on a bedroom for the girls, a crib had been placed for Will in Eli's room, but space disappeared and the family had seriously outgrown the original house. Grissom and Sara shared an office in what had been the dining room. The back porch had been converted into a playroom and everyone shared two small bathrooms. There were two rooms upstairs tucked under the sloping roof and used for occasional guests. A tiny bathroom pushed back into attic space was barely useable. A six months absence had opened a time frame for remodeling—a new bathroom, a bigger kitchen—until Grissom decided to sell his mother's property.

Grissom stopped the van as he turned into their driveway. Trees blocked a clear view of the house. "Close your eyes," he instructed. "Keep them closed."

Sara knew a change had occurred as they neared the house by the sound of the tires; a paved surface met her feet as she stepped out of the vehicle. Grissom guided her, telling her to keep her eyes closed.

"Open," he whispered against her ear. His arms wrapped around her waist. "I think you'll like it."

Sara was standing in front of the porch, a favorite place with its two swings and toys scattered from one end to the other. Today it was much the same without the clutter. Her eyes moved upward to a new second floor and roofline. Windows lined a new room above the porch.

"A sun porch?" She asked, her own voice a whisper as she realized the extent of the remodeling. The upstairs was no longer a dark, cramped, head-banging space carved from an attic, but a real second floor.

"Better—wait until you see!" Grissom opened the front door pushing her ahead.

She knew she said something because he laughed. The former living room had been transformed into a large open area. Their furniture was in place and everything was strangely neat and orderly and she knew Sister Deborah had supervised the unpacking and arrangement of the room. The dining room turned office had disappeared and in its place was a real dining table in a much larger space.

"The garage?"

"New one, behind the house. Our boxes are there."

She continued into the kitchen, finding little that resembled the old one but seeing familiar, often wished for, cabinet space, a large island with a sink, deck ovens, a large refrigerator which she opened to find filled with food. The old clunker had been a running joke for year; this new one was a cook's dream model.

"You didn't—I know this cost too much!" She said as she ran a hand across the smooth new countertops.

Grissom grinned as he watched her open drawers that closed with a slight push; his smiled grew as she opened cabinets and touched a faucet. She smiled when she opened a door to find a pantry and, again, when she moved into the playroom.

The old one had been ripped off to enlarge the kitchen and the new one was large, bright, and opened to a new courtyard. Shelves lined two walls with hand and toe holds placed so that little feet and hands could climb and reach higher shelves. Cabinets and desks were built along a wall with windows above each. Several chairs and a small sofa were in a corner.

"Oh, Gil, this is beautiful," she quickly wiped her eyes. "It's so much more…"

He wrapped an arm around her. "We haven't seen the best part—so I hear."

She stopped to investigate the remodeled bathroom and the boys' bedroom—now much larger by several feet. The girls' bedroom had been enlarged and repainted; a long closet with three doors had been added along one wall. The beds were placed in a row separated by low bookcases and new windows.

"There're rooms upstairs, but as long as they are young, I think we want them near us." Grissom explained. "And each girl has her own closet space." He smiled as he opened two doors.

"I can't believe you managed all this—and Sister Deborah—I know she must have worked for days." Sara was overwhelmed to tears, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. The bedrooms had been set up almost as the kids had left them, beds made, toys on shelves and in baskets, neat as magazine photographs.

"Lilly and her daughter helped."

Sara no longer tried to stop her tears. "I can't believe this—it is so perfect for us."

"Hey," Grissom's fingers wiped her cheek. "Don't cry—they said you would—that's why we wanted you to see it first, without the kids." He took her hand. "You haven't seen the best part," saying that he opened their bedroom door.

Not once had she ever complained about a king size bed that nearly filled the room; or when they had pushed two little cribs into a corner when Ava and Annie were born. She had spent hours in bed in this room with only one window waiting for Will to arrive. The two had knocked elbows in the bathroom so often they had learned how to stand, how to bathe, and how to brush teeth while contorting bodies and limbs in a space barely large enough for one person.

He felt her breath leave her body as the door opened. Sunlight from a wall of windows brightened the room and opened to the same courtyard as the playroom. Their bed, the chests, two new chairs, a new rug were arranged in a space twice the size of the old room. Grissom gave her a few moments before leading her to a new bathroom.

"Ours," he said.

"You shouldn't have—you've spent so much. I—you—your mother's place…"

"My mother would be thrilled beyond words to know we've done this—you deserve your own bathroom, a kitchen that's big enough to actually cook in, a table large enough for our family." He spread his arms out. "Just look at this—I'm not touching the walls!" He was almost dancing with excitement.

She smiled, turning slowly. "A big tub." She was pleased. She turned back to him, holding arms out. "Yeah, your mom would like this!" She walked into his arms. "I feel like I'm in a dream."

"I kept your ideas folder—all those pictures you had collected over the years."

Sara's hands held his face close to hers. "You did." She kissed him, pulling him into a passionate embrace, kissing him until one had to break for air. "I love you, Gil Grissom."

"We have to see the rest—upstairs."

The room over the porch was a new office. "You have your own research to do—you need your own space." He proudly pointed to a new desk, bookcases, and cabinets.

She realized she had not seen an office for him. "Where is your office?"

He chuckled. "Downstairs—next to the dining room and an outside door! And I have a little shower tucked in there!" She grinned.

The two bedrooms had been enlarged with raised ceilings, additional windows and closets, connected by a shared bathroom with separate spaces for the shower, the toilets, and sinks. He explained, "Each space can be private," as he pulled a pocket door closed. "The Garcia brothers suggested this design from some other work they've done."

"It's perfect, Gil, perfect." She kept wiping her face until he found a washcloth, wet it, and wiped her face.

She sniffed in an effort to stop her tears. "I'm overwhelmed, babe. I had no idea you—everyone—was doing this. There's so much space."

With her words, he laughed. "I'll bet everyone will be in our bed at two in the morning!"

_A/N: One more chapter to go! Please leave a comment or review! We do appreciate hearing from everyone. _


	25. Chapter 25

_A/N: The last chapter! Enjoy!_

**A Few Days Continued Time in the Triangle, Chapter 25**

"I never expected it to be so beautiful." Bizzy had made this statement standing in the middle of the new kitchen, her blue eyes taking in everything around her. Like her mother, her hand had touched every surface, pulled open numerous drawers and doors, turned on water, and expressed her satisfaction by hugging her dad.

The other children were running around the house excited and squealing as they discovered old toys, new spaces, a pull-out step at the bathroom sinks, and the ability to climb up shelves in the playroom. Their activity continued as Grissom opened the garage door and rolled out their tricycles, scooters, and a wagon to ride on the new paved area and paths that circled the house. By nightfall, exhausted adults and children managed to eat their first meal at the new table before Will fell asleep in his high chair. The others followed ready to sleep as their parents tucked them in.

"Daddy, I love our new house," Ava whispered.

"I do too, Sweetheart."

Bizzy reached her hand to touch Grissom's knee. "This was a good plan, Daddy. Mom is really surprised."

Annie sat up in bed. "Does having our own bathroom mean we can't use yours?" She asked.

"You can use ours," he assured her, "if you need to." He reached across the bed to replace her covers.

She sat up again. "Can we still sleep in your bed too?"

He chuckled. "Yeah, you can still sleep with us."

Sara stood at the door. "Lights out, girls. Stay in your beds tonight, okay?" Grissom joined her at the door. "What have you promised?" She asked in a whisper, then said, "Good night, girls," as she head them settling into beds.

…She stretched the length of the tub—a brand new, never used before tub she had pulled the protective wrap from this afternoon. It fit her perfectly, she thought as she sunk a little deeper into the water letting soap froth touch her ears. She gently blew causing dozens of tiny iridescent shining bubbles to float above her face. She had wanted a tub like this for years—she giggled. She remembered the first time she had ever stepped into this kind of bathtub. Scared of her own shadow then, scared and trying to be sophisticated and experienced in the ways of the world—or at least in the ways of spending a long weekend with an older man. She giggled again. That had worked out well.

"What's all the giggling I hear?" Grissom stood at the door, wearing boxers and a white tee shirt. She flicked suds toward him and sat up.

"Do you remember the first time I ever bathed in a tub like this?" She rested her chin on the side of the tub. "I don't think I ever told you."

He reached for a padded stool and scooted it across the floor so he could sit beside the tub. "It was the weekend at the bed and breakfast—we drove out there in a SUV and I wanted a convertible. You bought a candle. There were sheep in the pasture." His voice has softened to a husky whisper. "You were the most beautiful woman in the world to me—and I wanted you forever."

Somehow her hand was in his. She said, "You reserved a cottage with beautiful antique furniture and this huge shiny, white bathroom—it was as big as my apartment bedroom—with a fantastic tub. You sat beside me and talked and wrapped me in a big towel." She smiled. "I was so scared."

He leaned to kiss her, smiling. "I was scared, too. I couldn't imagine what you saw in me, what made you want me. I felt like a teenager."

Sara reached for the hand shower. He took it from her and began to spray a gentle rain mist across her shoulders. "You know this is a dream, right?" She laughed quietly. She stood and turned slowly as he continued to rinse her body; his hand gently moved along her back, across her chest, much in the way he would bathe his child.

"It's no dream, honey." She met his eyes, saw heat rising in the clear blue gaze, and stepped from the tub into his arms as he carefully wrapped a towel around her body.

When she touched him, she heard a low, hungry groan deep in his chest. She sensed his urgent need, realized how much patience he had shown as she had lingered with her bath. He lay his cheek against her hair, breathing in the fragrance of her hair.

Sara tilted her head, cradling his face with her hands. "You are my one love, Gil. I've forgotten there was a time when I did not know you—that I did not love you."

His lips closed over hers so gently it made tears spring to her eyes. He tenderly kissed her upper lip, her lower lip, her chin, her nose, ending with a kiss to her forehead before pulling away. A dizzy, exhilarating sensation soared, mounted within her body. Her hands slipped to encircle his neck.

The way he smiled, the gleam in his eyes, the feel of his hands around her waist caused her to laugh, quietly, seductively. Sliding fingers into his curls, she pulled his face to her, kissing him, tracing his lips with her tongue until she felt his teeth. She knew he smiled as he back-stepped out of the bathroom, never releasing her as the towel dropped.

Before they reached the bed, his body pressed against her, pushing, half carrying her to the bed, gripping her as though she was the only thing keeping him on earth, he breathed her name "Sara," before he kissed her again, deeply, drawing her into him. One hand kept her against him while his palm closed over her left breast, causing a pleasurable warmth to rush through her body. His lips played along her neck finding the erotic spot below her ear as his hand moved downward. He kissed, he licked and blew against her skin causing her to shiver with desire.

Once he raised his head and looked at her; beginning with her face he traced a line from her ear to her chin, along her neck to the space between her breasts. His fingers spread and his thumb circled her nipple. "You are beautiful."

Sara's hands slipped underneath his shirt to his bare chest, drawing her fingertips along his smooth skin, pushing the shirt over his head. She kissed his throat, his shoulder, touching him with her tongue while sliding her palm lower, across bare flesh until she found the waistband of his boxers.

Instead of pushing them off, she let her hand rest against the firmness of his erection. He made a sound, half groan and half muffled laughter. Her hand moved to his backside where she hooked her thumb and tugged at the boxers. Quickly, they were gone with another push and heat from his skin set off a luscious moist ache within her. As if he read her body, his fingers threaded their way through the nest that concealed her most private parts, touching her in the most intimate way, finding a warm wet welcome. His fingers worked, one, then a second, entered her as she twisted against him.

She whispered his name. He saw her expression and realized she had already entered into the realm of consciousness leading to impending climax. Slowly, deliberately, his fingers played as he lowered himself, kissing the center of her belly before moving downward. Her fingers brushed his hair as he gently separated her legs and touched his tongue to the inside of her thigh. Her fingers tightened in his hair.

"Gil."

He separated her legs, kissing her knee as he placed it over his shoulder, and inhaling the exquisite feminine scent he loved. She smelled of the sea, of citrus, a fragrance too rare to be named. He found the small, sensitive bud of her vulva and kissed it, touching, tasting with his tongue. In seconds, she was so wet his hand glistened in the low light.

Sara began to breathe more quickly; her hips shifted, lifting against him. He felt her clench around his fingers as she gasped. He moved one hand from her butt to her breast and circled the nipple. He sensed her impending climax before she did. Her hands had released his hair and twisted in the sheets.

He moved, propelling himself forward until he covered her body with his own, placing his lips on hers. In seconds, he pressed, filling her, moving slowly until his control was pushed to the edge. He rocked faster, driving himself deeper as her hips met his, locking each into a rhythmic pace.

She gasped and made a choked cry as waves of pleasure rippled and swelled through her. Within minutes, he joined her as they tumbled into a sparkling whirlpool of passion. Quietness followed, the only sounds were the slowing of breaths as they lay tangled in sheets, arms and legs in a seemingly random entanglement. Yet hands were placed in precise spots—his thumb caressed the area underneath her breast as it swelled from her chest, her fingers gently moved along his ear and into his hair. He had shifted his weight and legs to keep her thighs open and nestled against his groin. The feeling of orgasm lingered as their generated heat slowly ebbed.

In the hushed darkness, they talked—about all those subjects covered by lovers, by parents, by long-time companions hungry for uninterrupted conversation. The peaceful, uninterrupted time stretched into a wanting wakefulness; neither having to suggest a desire. Sara's body responded to a kiss, a touch; his body warmed again, becoming rigid with renewed yearning.

Naked, they rolled out of bed with no words; her hand in his as they entered the shower. As the new tub was Sara's gift, this shower was Grissom's bonus. Under the spray of pulsating shower jets, they made love again, laughing quietly as they experimented with rotating showerheads and changing spray and slick legs and arms, lips and shoulders. By midnight, they were back in bed, curled together, exhausted but sedated in the way of lovers.

Grissom's last thought before sleep was of the restful way she had always snuggled into his shoulder—as if she had known from the beginning she was part of him that made his life complete.

_Five o'clock_…

"Will's awake, Daddy." Eli's warm hand touched Grissom's shoulder.

Grissom had been roused from sound sleep two hours earlier to find two pairs of blue eyes looking into his. He had scooted over to make room for Annie and Ava and mumbled a response to their quiet whispers as they snuggled against him.

Earlier, around midnight, after talking quietly for nearly an hour, he and Sara had inaugurated the new shower in the best way possible. He grinned as he remembered not just the sex in the shower, but the slow, intoxicating act of making love to his wife—not once but twice—and the exhaustion that followed.

He rolled out of bed, his bones and joints popped from lying in one position, hitched his sleep pants up, and made his way to the boys' room. Eli crawled into the empty warm space and was asleep within minutes.

Grissom found Will awake and sitting up in his crib. Bizzy was leaning over the rail patting her brother, calmly talking to him.

"Hey, Sweetheart." Grissom bent to kiss the top of her head. Will immediately waved his arms.

"Up, Daddy!" Will wiggled and pulled himself up.

"I thought he would go back to sleep," Bizzy said, rubbing her own eyes.

Grissom lifted the little boy into his arms. "He's needs changing. Thank you, Sweetie. You go back to bed."

She turned at the door. "Daddy, can I sleep with you and Mom?"

He chuckled. "Yeah. We'll be there in a minute."

Hours after the sun was up, he woke again to a crowded bed and the gentle whisper-like snores of children. His right arm was holding Will who was lying across his chest. Eli's arm was draped across both of them. In the middle of the bed, Ava and Annie lay curled in opposite directions, appearing to be joined at their backs. Sara slept, her dark wavy hair matched to the head resting on her shoulder.

Sara was right, he thought. They needed one room with a wall-to-wall bed. He chuckled—he had hopes they would soon outgrow the need to stumble into this bed in the middle of the night. But right now, without admitting it, they both enjoyed waking with their kids beside them. As Will grunted his sleepy displeasure of being disturbed, Grissom attempted to move out of bed leaving everyone asleep. He would start breakfast; the smell of pancakes would have everyone up within minutes.

_A month passed… _

It had been amazingly easy to step back into their old routine with few changes or surprises. Bizzy and Eli were excited to return to their old school and friends. Sara walked them to the end of the driveway for the morning bus pickup and met them every afternoon as they climbed out of "the yellow cheese" as they named the school bus.

Ava and Annie missed preschool activities more than Sara or Grissom wanted to admit in the first days at home. But with the arrival of two kittens from their neighbors, and their dad's encouragement to follow him as he resumed work with his bees and gardens, they gradually took up their own pretend play habits including their little brother most of the time. After Bizzy and Eli returned from school, another kind of play evolved with a shifting of leaders and followers.

Sara set up her office in the new space upstairs. As beautiful as it was, a room built just for her overlooking the front yard, she wasn't completely satisfied. She was too isolated, too far from her children and the kitchen, and from Grissom.

"What if I moved my desk down here?" She asked one day, standing at the entrance of his office which was already a jumble of papers, jars, books, and small equipment.

He grinned, that slightly crooked smile that appeared on the faces of three of his children. "You'll have to put up with my mess."

"I'll be near the kitchen—the playroom."

"Sometimes I have things that smell."

She walked behind him, running her hands down his chest, leaving over his shoulder. "I won't complain—much." She nibbled his ear before touching it lightly with her tongue.

His laughed started as a deep rumble in his chest as he pulled her into his lap. "Mrs. Grissom, you have a way of getting what you want."

They heard giggles from the doorway as he kissed her.

_A/N: Thanks for reading along! We want to hear from you (all of you) who have been reading this story. We are working on another one, but **want to hear from YOU before we complete it**--which will probably be the last "A Few Days" story! It has taken us much farther than we ever thought when we wrote the first one! So, write a little message and hit 'send'--thanks so much! _


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